If you look at me long enough, maybe you’ll remember what it felt like to just exist without trying.
I’m not trying to be anything here.
I don’t even know that I could be anything other than what I am. I just feel the ground under my feet, the soft pull of the wind on my clothes, and the warmth of the day resting on my back.
No one has told me yet how I should stand, what I should say, or who I should try to become. I only move because my body wants to move, look because something calls me to look, and breathe because the world feels big and alive.
I don’t think about being watched. I don’t think about being right. I don’t think about being enough. I just am— whole and simple and curious.
Maybe you were like this once, too— before the rules, before the fears, before the weight of all the “shoulds” and “musts.”
