A Bitter-Sweet Awakening in the Middle of a Tiring Day

terday was one of those days when both my body and mind felt unusually heavy.
I spent the entire day running around, preparing for and hosting an art festival.
By the time I got home and checked my steps, it was over 25,000.
When I was younger, this kind of exhaustion didn’t seem like a big deal.
But now, I find myself longing for a warm meal and a soft bed more than anything else.

At 3 a.m. , I woke up.
Somewhere along the way, I developed a habit of listening to novels before falling asleep.
Usually, the sound of a story gently lulls me to sleep,
but tonight, the novel felt strangely vivid and clear—sleep drifted even farther away.

I made myself a cup of coffee and embraced the quiet of dawn.
Listening to stories about other people’s lives, I suddenly found myself reflecting on my own.
Am I living well?
Did I overlook something precious in the moments I let pass by so carelessly?

The novel ended, but my mind stayed wide awake.
So I bundled up in warm clothes and took a slow walk through the crisp morning air.

When I was a child, late-night streets were nothing but thrilling adventures.
But now, I realize that the person I encounter on a lonely road
might see me as something to be feared, not just another passerby.
A friend once joked,
“You’re tall and have a strong presence—if someone meets you on a dark street, you’ll be startled, but they’ll be even more startled.”
I never truly understood those words until now.

I realize that being careful isn’t just about protecting myself,
but about being considerate of others as well.
Perhaps, that’s how we all keep each other safe.

So, the takeaway from today is this:
Much like the lingering, bitter-sweet feeling a good novel leaves behind,
I want to live my life with more thought for others,
to find small awakenings even in sleepless dawns.

A single book, a single story, kept me awake tonight
but maybe that’s why I’ll be able to greet tomorrow with a little more warmth.