Some evenings just feel… heavier.
Even if nothing bad happened.
Even if the day was normal, maybe even fine.
The sky darkens,
but it’s not the lack of light —
it’s the quiet that creeps in with it.
It starts small.
A sigh that escapes without reason.
A weight in the chest that doesn’t have a name.
I light a candle.
Make tea.
Try to shake it off,
but it clings like humidity in summer.
I scroll my phone more slowly.
Linger longer on posts.
Avoid the news.
Avoid myself.
I check 온라인카지노,
not because I care who’s playing —
just because it gives the evening a pulse.
A match. A timer. Something moving.
It helps a little.
Anchors me.
But the heaviness stays.
So I stop pretending to fight it.
I let it sit beside me on the couch.
I offer it space.
Like a guest who never quite says why they’ve come,
but you set out an extra cup anyway.
I replay old conversations in my head.
Half-wish someone would text.
Half-hope no one does.
It’s a strange in-between.
Where I’m not lonely,
but not really with myself either.
I breathe.
Try to journal.
Try not to cry.
Try not to feel guilty
for not being okay when nothing is technically wrong.
I open 우리카지노,
not to win — just to distract.
And for a few minutes,
it works.
And then I close my eyes.
The heaviness doesn’t leave,
but it softens.
And I let it stay,
without shame.