by It’s not the walls that trap me — it’s the loop. The well-worn routine that’s shaped into identity. Life feels predictable, like I’m spinning in place and calling it progress.
I keep waiting for some big change to arrive on its own. But nothing grand is coming. And when loss finally shows up, I won’t get to choose what’s taken. So what am I clinging to?
I know what weighs me down — habits, thoughts, patterns past their time. But knowing isn’t the same as letting go. I turn simple steps into performances, paralyzed by the idea that change must be total.
Self doesn’t ask for theatrics. It just says: clean your shoes. But I overthink, freeze, do nothing.
Lately though, there’s a flicker of something new — a small courage that arises when I stop interrupting myself. If I honor it, even gently, it begins to shift me.
What scares me today might not even land tomorrow. Maybe the real work is smaller than I thought.
Not demolition. Just one step past the invisible line. Enough to feel the wind. Enough to begin.
