Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Be
I am racing against a clock that doesn’t exist. The war started, and within days my instinct was to invent deadlines to move faster and work harder. As if hurrying could make the painful situation end sooner. I called it resilience. I called it coping. But it is a childish form of escape, dressed up in productivity. My body still wants to sprint. My mind knows there is nowhere to run. Just a situation unfolding on its own time, with or without my panic. ...