been pacing the windowsill more than I used to. Not literally, of course I mean that in the way a house cat does.
I sit,
I scroll,
I snack.
I look out at life, but I’m not quite in it.
The days feel long, quiet. I have time now, more than I ever asked for, and I don’t always know what to do with it.
I used to be busy. I had purpose, places to be, things to get done. Now, the noise has settled. The job is gone, the pressure is gone and with it, a bit of my spark, too. It's strange. I thought I’d enjoy the break. But it feels more like a pause that forgot how to play.
I ask myself, what now? What’s next for someone who still feels a little wild inside, but also kind of... tame? I’m not chasing dreams the way I used to, but I still want something. Not bigger. Just meaningful. Small things. Gentle things. Things that make me feel awake again.
Maybe I try a new skill. Maybe I write more. Maybe I talk to people who feel the same. Maybe I stop trying to fill every minute and just let some minutes be quiet.
I’m not lost. Just pacing. Watching. Waiting for the next pull of curiosity. And when it comes, I’ll follow iteven if it’s just a step off the windowsill.
