Some mornings I wake up with a sadness I cannot explain. It settles on my chest before I even open my eyes, reminding me that the pain did not disappear overnight. I sit on the edge of my bed trying to convince myself to move, to breathe, to care. But everything feels heavier when the day has not even begun. I wish mornings felt peaceful again, but lately they only remind me of how tired I am, not just in my body but in my heart. I keep going because I have no choice, but a part of me wonders if anyone knows how much effort it takes just to start the day.