50.
The number doesn't scare me. It’s the scenery that does.
I look around and wonder if I’ve spent my time or just
wasted it. I feel numb more than I feel happy lately, and that’s a hard truth
to sit with when you’re trying to build something authentic. People question my
intentions, but I’m the one questioning my own progress.
Lately, the past hasn't just been a memory—it’s been a
trigger. A smell, a place, a ghost of old rejection. It feels like for every
two steps I’ve taken toward growth, I’ve slid three steps back into the mud of
my childhood.
My family sees me differently now. I know why. I own that.
But knowing you’re the one who broke it doesn’t always mean you know how to
glue it back together. Sometimes the affirmations feel like bullshit. Sometimes
the weight of it all makes me wonder if being here matters at all.
But then I remember: "Every passing moment is
another chance to turn it around."
I wake up. I breathe. I get another shot to find that
microphone, to make someone laugh, to help someone feel a little less
alone—even if I haven't figured out how to do that for myself yet.
I’m still here. I’m still trying to make it work.
I hope you are too.
NMF.
