It’s three in the morning. + 

Not a time… a state. + 

I’m sitting in front of my screens. + 

Not just one… multiple windows open, as if they’re trying to convince me I’m “productive”… that I’m “moving”… that something is actually happening. + 

But the truth is simpler. + 

I’m stuck. + 

I have obligations. + 

A long list… bigger than my day, bigger than my capacity, bigger than any illusion of organization I pretend to have. + 

I know what I should be doing. + 

More than that… + 

I know the order. + 

What matters… and what matters more. + 

But, as usual—and this time I won’t pretend otherwise— + 

I choose what matters least. + 

Every time. + 

Not because I don’t understand… + 

But because I understand too well. + 

The ashtray is full. + 

Not just full—layered. + 

A timeline of uncounted hours, unfinished thoughts, and decisions never made. + 

The coffee mug sits in front of me… + 

Cold… half full… or half empty—it doesn’t matter. + 

I don’t drink it to wake up. + 

I drink it to postpone sleep. + 

And that’s a dangerous difference. + 

I stare at it… + 

And seriously consider something completely irrational: + 

Should I get up and make another cup… or not? + 

All of this… while I have work to deliver. + 

Tasks waiting. + 

People waiting. + 

A small future forming—or delaying—because of this exact moment. + 

And still… + 

My mind isn’t debating the work. + 

My mind is debating the coffee. + 

And that’s the problem. + 

It’s not lack of time. + 

Not too much work. + 

Not even exhaustion. + 

The problem is that inner voice that convinces you the small decision… matters. + 

That the cup of coffee… deserves analysis. + 

That getting up or staying seated… is worth thinking through. + 

As if you’re trying to escape… but intelligently. + 

I’m not avoiding the work. + 

I’m avoiding starting. + 

Starting is the most dangerous moment. + 

Because the second you begin… + 

there are no more excuses. + 

No more “I’ll start in a minute.” + 

No more “let me organize my thoughts.” + 

There’s only one thing left: + 

The truth. + 

Can you do it… or not? + 

I light another cigarette. + 

Not because I want it… + 

but because my hand needs something that isn’t the keyboard. + 

The smoke rises slowly… + 

fades… + 

just like my intentions every night. + 

I look at the screen. + 

The tasks don’t disappear. + 

Time doesn’t pause. + 

And the clock… doesn’t care. + 

Three in the morning. + 

And the decision is still stuck between two ridiculous choices: + 

To write… + 

or to make another cup of coffee. + 

I laugh silently. + 

Because I already know the truth… + 

and I know the outcome. + 

I’ll get up. + 

I’ll make the coffee. + 

I’ll come back. + 

And I’ll sit… + 

and think… + 

and smoke… + 

and delay again. + 

Not because I’m lazy. + 

But because… + 

I haven’t decided yet to be serious enough. + 

And the most dangerous lie I live every day: + 

That I still have time to decide later. + 