One Day. At a time.

It's 7:25, and I'm on the bus to work. Listening to music, writing this, awaiting for my stop. To step out into the cold and walk the rest to work.

I'm tired, even with the good amount of sleep, breakfast, and a wake-up call for myself.

My stop is almost here.

I've still got no motivation to anything, but i got a little energy, to push forward away from my thoughts, to give myself the chance to do something with my day.

This weekend, i went to bed late, slept til midday, then did nothing during the evening. Ate on another circle. And repeat. It was terrible. I kept telling myself, and willing. Me to move on and get going. Doing something. But nothing.

First time in months, I've woken up in good time to do what's on my list, for the mornings.

So that's where I am, now.