Sometimes, when there are big changes in your life, the world just keeps going. I know, I know – you’ve heard this before. The classic “life moves fast” line. But the truth is, it really does.
I try not to bother people too much with my problems. But sometimes, just for a few moments – when I’m not busy pushing forward, studying, laughing, or reading – when I’m still with myself, tears will fill my eyes in the slightest way. Just enough to remind me that I’m still human, and that it’s okay to pause.
Actually, sometimes when I feel this way, I want to go to church. Which is really ironic, since I’m probably the most unreligious person in the world. I have faith, yes – but religious? No. Still, I think the idea of having a space to confess that the weight feels extra heavy is beautiful. Whether you believe in God or whether you don’t, the idea of getting it off your chest – of allowing yourself to feel real, human emotions in a sanctuary – is poetic, intimate, and raw. Sometimes, just the thought that someone is actually listening – without judgment, whether the feelings are good or bad – brings an overwhelming sense of comfort. In a place like that, you are allowed to stop. To be witnessed. You don’t have to justify the heaviness – you just set it down.
But instead, I stay in my bed. No stained glass, no quiet echoes, no sacred permission to fall apart. Just a dim room and the glow of a screen. I keep typing, reading, and singing softly to myself – not because the weight is gone, but because life doesn’t pause long enough for me to disappear into it. Life really does go on. And for now, from this small, ordinary place, so do I.
a work in progress 
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