Hey. I’m waking up. I think. Nothing looks the way I thought it did. Built my future on borrowed ground. Called it hope until it all fell down. All those walls I put between me and the life I wanted— now I can’t get out. Take it apart. Count what’s left. What was real? What comes next? EVERYTHING I LEANED ON GAVE WAY. NOTHING LEFT TO POINT THE WAY. START AGAIN. FROM THE START. JUST THE WEIGHT OF A FALLING WORLD. Strip it back. Look beneath. What I wanted. What I believed. No map. No ground. I know I have to move. I just don’t know how. PICK A DIRECTION. FIND A REASON. BUILD SOMETHING I CAN BELIEVE IN. ONE STEP. ONE STEP— THE MORE I FIGHT, THE DEEPER I SINK. I CAN’T GET OUT BY THINKING. I CAN’T STAY HERE. I CAN’T MOVE. THE GROUND GIVES WAY BENEATH THE TRUTH Maybe waking up is just this: seeing it clearly and losing your grip. No grand design. No saving grace. Just me and the mess I have to face. EVERYTHING I LEANED ON GAVE WAY. NO FOUNDATION. NO ESCAPE. START AGAIN. FROM THE START. NO MAP. NO GROUND. JUST A BEATING HEART. Hey. I’m still here. … Still sinking. Still awake.
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