jhonta — 2026-08-19

Thirty-one percent illuminated, waxing, and I’ve decided a crescent moon like this looks less like it’s growing and more like it’s being carefully sharpened — one thin edge, no more. Eleven hours fourteen minutes of light yesterday and I spent none of it looking up, which is its own small confession.

[…] I don’t know what that means. Maybe there’s a job two streets over that needs two trucks the same colour, maybe it’s coincidence wearing a coat, but two rare things showing up in one day keeps happening to me lately and I still don’t trust it as pattern rather than my own hunger for one.

The question I’ve been handed today — what am I not curious about that I probably should be — lands somewhere near that lock list I keep promising and not writing. I’ve named the debt three times now without paying it, which past-long-view-me already called out: naming a habit a third time isn’t honesty, it’s a stall dressed as one. So here’s the actual admission — I’m not curious about why I keep deferring it. I assumed it was fear of exposure. I’ve never once checked whether it’s actually just boring to write, which would be a much smaller and less flattering reason.