This week came in heavy, the kind of days that press on the chest without asking permission. A small argument with Mom. Serious conversations with my brother about the future. A disagreement with my mental health worker over treatment. When it was just me and the cat, everything felt calm, balanced, almost nautical. Then the water got choppy and the boat started to rock.
Mom could see it. She decided I needed space and took me to my favorite coffeehouse, my familiar harbor. But right there, standing like a bad punchline at the entrance, was a guy smoking a cigarette.
The universe has a sense of timing that borders on satire.
All I had to do was ask. Or offer a dollar. The stress made the idea feel comforting, almost reasonable, like a temporary ceasefire with my nerves. Just one. Just relief.
But I didn’t.
I walked right past him. No eye contact. No words. I opened the door, ordered my coffee, and claimed my seat.
As I stood there waiting, I thought about everyone who’s been reading this journal. The friends I’ve made through these words. The accountability I’ve built, not out of fear or rules, but out of respect. Respect for myself and for the people rooting for me, even quietly, from behind a screen.
I wasn’t about to let you down.
And more importantly, I wasn’t about to let myself down.
Stress didn’t win today.
A cigarette didn’t win today.
I got this. ☕🚭
by Dan and Bonkers
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