Your 2035 Self Is Begging You to Read This

I woke up at 3:00 a.m. with a weight on my chest. Not the vague kind you can roll over and ignore, not the type you can pin on too much coffee or a restless dream. This was heavier. The kind that sits you upright before you get a chance to bargain with yourself, the kind that makes the dark feel less like rest and more like a courtroom where your future is pacing around, waiting to be heard. I have learned to trust those wake-ups. Sometimes they are stress. Sometimes they are grief. Sometimes they are the quiet alarm system of responsibility, the part of you that doesn’t speak all day because it knows you’re busy, then finally cuts through the noise when the world is still and your defenses are down. This one felt like responsibility that had been gathering for a while and finally decided I couldn’t sleep past it anymore.

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