This weekend, I just want to remember what it feels like to be human.
Not productive. Not reactive. Not “caught up.”
Just human.

I want to kiss Jen more than just hello and goodbye.
I want to feel the weight of her hand in mine and let it slow me down.

I want to bake a loaf of sourdough—not because I should,
but because stretching and folding warm dough with flour on my hands makes me feel like I exist.
Like I’m here.
Like I matter.

I want to laugh—really laugh—until my eyes crease and my shoulders drop.
I want to sit outside and feel the breeze without thinking about where it came from or what it means.
I want to plug into life. The real kind.
The kind that doesn’t ask for a password or a timeline.

Lately, it’s been hard to quiet the noise on the surface.
All the voices, alerts, headlines, deadlines.
Everything demanding to be responded to, fixed, posted, planned.
But underneath all that static…
there’s still the pulse of something honest and good.
Something warm. Still moving.

This weekend, I just want to feel that.
To remember I’m still human.
And to let that be enough.