There was a time when the weekend meant escape. Loud bars. Late nights. Empty conversations. Fake smiles. Another round you didn't really want. Chasing moments that never really filled you. You weren't celebrating. You were avoiding. Avoiding the noise in your own head. Avoiding the reality that you felt stuck, lost, unseen. That something inside you was missing. You were just trying to forget who you were for a few hours. We all have our outlets. Some people drink. Some numb out. Some distract themselves until the silence fades. Mine became the gym. A place to process. To breathe. To rebuild. It started as an escape, but over time, it became something else. A return. To clarity. To control. Taking care of myself stopped being a chore. It became a promise. Now, peace hits harder than any party ever could. I care more about how I feel on Sunday morning than Friday night. Because nothing compares to waking up clear-headed, focused, and proud of the person you're becoming. We all need a place to go when life gets heavy. Just make sure the one you choose builds you...not breaks you.