How much of what hurts are you carrying on purpose?
How much has the world hurt you? How unfair has life been? How many people have disappointed you? And how do you treat people while you carry it? Does the pain explain everything, or does it excuse everything?
How much of your peace is real, and how much is just staying busy?
How much of your present is held hostage by your past?
The path you know. The identity you have rehearsed for years. You call it stability. Isn’t it the fear of becoming a stranger to yourself?
How much of your future depends on people you assume will always be there? Did you build your life around temporary things and then feel betrayed when they changed?
And what about luck?
How willing are you to let life surprise you? How much energy do you spend trying to control outcomes? Have you forgotten how to take part in uncertainty? Do you want guarantees before taking risks, certainty before love, and proof before commitment? When you read the terms and conditions of life, did you find a clause promising that the ground will hold you every time you move?
What does staying acceptable cost you?
Look at your smile. How much of it is joy, and how much is maintenance? How often do you say you’re fine because the truth would take too long to explain? How much nonsense did you swallow today to avoid an argument? How much of yourself did you betray yesterday to stay acceptable?
How much of your identity is genuine, and how much is an arrangement designed to keep you loved? Does tomorrow excite you, or does it threaten to repeat today, yesterday, and the day before?
Who is left when everyone is gone?
Have you spent years measuring your life against other people’s expectations, then wondered why your own feels unfamiliar? How much of your suffering is unavoidable, and how much are you rehearsing? How much of your life are you living, and how much are you protecting from change? Who are you when nobody is there?