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Adrião Pereira da Cunha's avatar

The piece feels like someone finally naming a kind of heaviness that doesn’t come from pain, but from simply existing.

There’s a quiet truth in admitting that some days weigh more not because something happened, but because nothing did.

The short lines mirror that emptiness the way a day can pass without crisis, without insight, just a slow draining of energy.

It’s deeply human to want a reason, a narrative, something to fix, and the text gently refuses that impulse.

The idea that the body can feel effort even when the mind can’t explain it is both grounding and compassionate.

There’s tenderness in the reminder that rest isn’t always relief sometimes it’s just the moment we stop searching for meaning.

The writing invites the reader into a shared stillness, a spiral that doesn’t descend but circles around awareness.

It acknowledges that heaviness without reason is not failure, but part of being alive in a body that gets tired.

The gratitude at the end feels like a soft hand extended, recognising the comfort of noticing together.

In its quiet way, the piece makes the weight feel less lonely simply by naming it.

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