Jatt
High T Sultan of Delhi
- Joined
- Jan 19, 2025
- Posts
- 5,701
- Reputation
- 10,407
I wake up early.
Every day. Seven a.m.
Not because I want to —
but because I have to.
The market opens,
and I bleed into the charts,
eyes half-shut,
heart full-empty.
University waits,
cold halls, colder faces.
No one’s really there.
Not even me.
It’s freezing.
Not just the air —
but inside.
Inside’s worse.
I just want to sleep.
Not rest.
Escape.
Weekends come,
but they don’t heal.
They just remind me
how tired I’ve been.
But my gymcel mindset —
this prison I built with discipline —
it drags me out of bed,
into pain,
into progress
that never feels like progress.
They say it’s purpose.
I call it survival.
No joy. No peace. No pause.
Just the rhythm of reps,
the ticking of clocks,
the weight of days
I never asked for.
Every day. Seven a.m.
Not because I want to —
but because I have to.
The market opens,
and I bleed into the charts,
eyes half-shut,
heart full-empty.
University waits,
cold halls, colder faces.
No one’s really there.
Not even me.
It’s freezing.
Not just the air —
but inside.
Inside’s worse.
I just want to sleep.
Not rest.
Escape.
Weekends come,
but they don’t heal.
They just remind me
how tired I’ve been.
But my gymcel mindset —
this prison I built with discipline —
it drags me out of bed,
into pain,
into progress
that never feels like progress.
They say it’s purpose.
I call it survival.
No joy. No peace. No pause.
Just the rhythm of reps,
the ticking of clocks,
the weight of days
I never asked for.
