And today, I cried.
I didn’t expect it. I hadn’t planned it. I didn’t even feel it building.
It just… happened.
People say, “Your cup gets full.” But I don’t think I have just one cup.
I feel like I’m juggling dozens of them.

I spend so much energy watching the obvious ones, carefully making sure they never overflow, that I forget about the others sitting quietly in the background. Then one spills. Then another. And suddenly they all topple like dominoes.
A flood.
From cups that weren’t even full.
From cups I didn’t even know I was carrying.
That’s what life feels like these days.
How do you stop yourself from drowning?
Maybe you don’t.
Maybe, for a while, you simply float. You let the water decide whether it slowly drains away while you stay above the surface… or whether it tries to pull you under with it.
I trust the process.

So far, I have a 100% survival rate.
Not bad, really.
I just have to keep it that way.
Today, though, I don’t want to carefully balance any cups anymore.
I want to rather throw them all.
One by one.
Not because they’ll disappear forever. They won’t.
But out of sheer defiance.
Out of anger.
Pure, unfiltered rage.
No careful thinking beforehand.
No regret afterwards.
Just let them fly.
Let them smash.
With every crash, perhaps my heart becomes a little lighter.
Perhaps I’d even smile.
Secretly.

Who is there to judge me?
And when every last cup is broken, I’ll go to bed.
Tomorrow might be better.
Or it might not.
But hope will still be there.
It always is.
And if nothing else…
I hope at least my morning coffee will be good.
Assuming I can still find one unbroken cup.

If not… the jar will do too… ❤️‍🩹