Some days feel like they never end.
Not because they’re full—
but because they echo.
Time folds in on itself, and the hours blur like smudged ink on a page you’ve read too many times.

At this point, sleep becomes the only reset button left.
You tell yourself you’ll do something different tomorrow.
But then, just like in Dark, the loop begins again.
A circle with no break, a cycle too familiar to resist.

You spin around your own thoughts, trying to distract yourself.
You pick up the book from last night—half a page in, you close it.
It’s lunchtime, and you still haven’t had breakfast.
You think: Maybe a coffee will shift the mood.
It doesn’t.

The afternoon drags like a shadow too long for its source.
Night arrives, and again you reach for the book—
But you can’t read.
Because nothing happened.
Not really.

And worse—
you’re scared tomorrow will mirror today.

“If I now change my past, I will change who I am right now.”
—The Stranger, Dark