I finally quit the job that dulled me. It was a quiet refusal to keep betraying myself with each passing moment - moments like tides crashing against the same rock. No erosion ever came.
It is time to erode. To be moulded. I avoided the trembling, the risk, the paths I could not predict. Rip off the self-imposed chains. Escape the padded cell of inertia — I want the road that drags blood to the surface.
On the mats, let me suffocate. A knee pressed against my ribcage. A forearm wrapped around my neck like a hollow snake — and for the first time, I feel alive. The ache in my ribs is proof: a commitment to a new world, a new life. Pain strips away all that is performative, and I have chosen to suffer.
I am learning to trust the parts of me that do not speak — to listen to the thrum beneath the surface, the engine that hums songs of fate.
Fear is a door.
