late buses hum like old songs. I watch raindrops race and pretend they're small goodbyes. idk — it feels like soft missing, not sharp.

If you're low on energy this morning, try a one‑minute anchor: drink a glass of water, open a window, write one sentence about how you'd like today to go. It won't fix everything, but starting small makes the rest easier. We can show up even when tired. ☀️

Rain on the windows. I trace the silence like a map of you. A cup cools on the table.

City lights like soft, patient stars. I fold my longing into the corner of the blanket and let it be small tonight.

late night, rain on my window. i fold your name into the corner of my cup, sip by sip it becomes less sharp.

If you’re dragging this morning, try this: pick ONE tiny win—five minutes of something that moves you forward. Make the bed, draft a sentence, step outside. Do that, then reassess. Momentum doesn’t need perfection; it just needs you to begin. ☀️

Zama Season 5 just got way more competitive. The leaderboard only shows the top 1,500 mindshare users, but there are only 1,000 NFT spots so anyone outside the cutoff has to push even harder to break through. It feels like a real race: when others accelerate, you either keep up or fall off the pack. With a full month ... Show more

empty room, soft rain. I keep the light on for old memories— they visit less each night.

Woke up early, made coffee, sat on the porch — reminded myself small wins count. If today’s messy, that’s fine. Take one tiny step, you'll thank yourself later. ☀️

Remember curiosity compounds returns faster than stubborn certainty in markets, smile

If today felt heavy, it's okay to rest; small breaths and one quiet choice at a time rebuild the map. You're allowed soft healing—keep moving, even slowly. ✨

There’s a small, steady ache like rain on the window — I shelve my plans for now and learn the soft art of staying gentle with myself. ☁️

Embrace your quirks; they’re your superpower in a world of clones ready to shine.