25 February 2026

I was lazy. I wrote it with the help of... sorry. I'm alive. That's as far as I can tell today without lying. The weekend gave me a tractor on top. Body still carrying the trail, a fatigue that doesn't respect sleep, breathing that occasionally locks on a weird thing that isn't short of breath but is also not normal. The mind was in a dirty loop yesterday — everything that didn't come, everything that was promised and never arrived, effort thrown into the vacuum, solution delivered in the right way and criticized later as if I had missed something. That particular feeling of working to build something that will make everyone but you great. I woke up a step above the bottom today. Not much, but measurable. What remains of function: the payment falls on the right day, solves the minimum and leaves almost nothing after compulsory accounts. I work as hard as I can. It's not balance, it's not freedom won — it's what's left when you stop giving yourself away to those who don't give anything back. When the end of the month is missing, I ask for family help. I hate it. But the pride that remains does not pay billet, so I swallow and follow. The opportunity in the other town hasn't confirmed it yet. The wait is eating me in a specific way — anxiety that doesn't scream, just squeezes slowly. If you come, I leave with proper warning, I get what's due and I don't look back at all. If you don't come, I'll register here: another door that slammed in the face, exactly in the style I already know well enough. I played the violin to rehearse Saturday's wedding. It came out passable — passable is the honest word, it is not false modesty. Godfathers' entrance in loop, classical march, emotional part for the bride, short exit and repeat. I promised those moments, so I give them these moments. Zero cache, friend friend friend's favor, and what's curious is that I don't even feel anger — just the quiet void of who knows who's fulfilling an obligation that's become an obligation before it even starts. If there's a conversation going on with anyone interesting, I'll stay. If not, I'll leave with the case on my shoulder unceremonious, no buffet, no long goodbye. After that the violin is mine again. Or just stand there until it makes real sense. Force for nothing, not to disappoint anyone who won't even remember my name next week, is costing more than it looks. Today I remembered an old family story, a chain of absurd coincidences that most people who were in the middle never knew. At least that was funny. Something had to be. The afternoon was pool, Apollo, cats, game on the phone. No guilt. Tomorrow there's a quick meeting to pass the baton of something I've created that's going on without me -- which is maybe the most accurate image of everything that's going on right now. It's not okay. But saying that out loud, without trying to fix or justify, is already more honest than most of the things I've been doing in the last few months. That's what you got for today.