29/09/2026
Every 1st of October, I find myself lost. I ask myself why, but my soul remains quiet. Maybe some dates are not meant to be explained; maybe they simply carry something we stopped trying to name. You might wonder why October 1st. I could tell you a story, but some stories lose their meaning when spoken out loud. All I know is that something about that day has always felt strangely familiar—like a forgotten memory, a door I once walked through, or a version of myself I can no longer find. The sunlight feels different, the air feels heavier, and for a moment, the world becomes quiet enough for me to hear everything I usually hide. Perhaps October 1st isn’t a date; perhaps it’s a feeling—a place where expectations disappear, where regrets become distant, and an empty heart finally stops asking where it is supposed to belong. So every year, I simply breathe. I don’t look for answers anymore. I just watch October 1st arrive, and wonder if it remembers me the way I remember it.
