Tangled in a web of mental clutter and chaos, deafened not just by the outside noise but also by the relentless mental chatter, drowned in the to-dos and overwhelmed by the must-dos, I escaped life, momentarily, not only to save myself, but more so to live life.
In that fleeting silence, where deadlines held no power and expectations lost their grip, I began to breathe again—not just the automatic breath of survival, but the slow, conscious inhale of the presence. I sat with the stillness, awkward at first, like meeting a stranger I once knew but had forgotten how to greet.
Thoughts still came, but I watched them pass without clinging. Some wore masks of urgency, others whispered guilt. I let them float. In that space, I wasn't what I had to do. I wasn't what I failed to finish. I was simply here—enough, for now.
And maybe that was the beginning of truly living—not in the escaping, but in the return.
04.2025 ︱ Qld & Nsw, Oz
