I watch my old self return

Ramadan this year felt like ink in my little dua journal, each page a yes, a small answered prayer. I would sit in my tiny kitchen at fajr, the kettle whispering, the city still, and feel held. Then Eid comes, and within a week I am back on the bus with my notebook closed, alarms snoozed, a message left on read because I am suddenly tired in an old, familiar way. It is not dramatic, just a quiet slipping. I am an engineering student and I can name the exact lecture where I notice it happen. Does this happen to you too?