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And if I arrive alone? So be it. If I arrive misunderstood? I’ll survive that too. I’ve already done worse.

I was meant to wander. To dissolve. To hide. To build an inner life that sustains me when nothing else does. I was meant to arrive when the room had emptied and the music had stopped and the real ones remained.

I want a life where timelines bend to my becoming.

And maybe what emerges in flow is something more essential—not the self we've constructed through repetition, but the self that exists prior to all that construction .

But here's what troubles me about this whole arrangement: we know belief isn't built on truth. It's built on repetition .

The world stops being a backdrop and starts being a conversation.

The world, I've discovered, is a masterful flirt. It leaves little gifts everywhere—the way morning light catches in spider webs, how rain releases that earthy sweetness into the air (petrichor, they call it, though no word could fully capture that particular alchemy of water and dust that smells like pure possibility), the particular green of new ... See more

It’s easy to feel adrift