Most people stay awake late on a Saturday because they know Sunday gives them time to recover. For me, it’s the opposite. Sunday evenings bring this undeniable urge to stay awake as long as possible, almost as if I’m trying to stretch the weekend. The consequence, of course, is that Monday mornings hit me hard—I wake up drowsy, reluctant to face the day. And so, the cycle continues week after week.

Today was a “so-so” day. No great strides, but I managed to complete everything I intended. Still, I feel the need to push myself more. I want to start cooking again, not relying on ordering food. Pain has become my excuse too often, and I don’t want to let it turn into laziness. I dream of living alone someday, of having my own place, of being truly self-sufficient. But dreams only come true if I make the effort. Even if it means cooking meals I don’t particularly enjoy, I need to start somewhere.