I have carried too many unfinished things, each one holding my attention, until even the work I cared about felt like a room with every corner demanding something from me,
I have carried too many unfinished things, I have sometimes avoided looking directly at them because I knew how quickly one reminder could turn into another failure,
I have carried too many unfinished things, while telling myself that keeping them alive meant I had not given up, even when I could no longer remember which ones still mattered,
I have carried too many unfinished things, how much of my energy is still going toward work I genuinely want how much is spent feeling guilty for not becoming who I imagined,
I have carried too many unfinished things, until the desire to create began to share its space with a tiredness I could not explain by effort alone…
I keep returning to old beginnings, because leaving them feels like admitting that my time spent on them may never become what I hoped,
I keep returning to old beginnings, I find myself trying to rescue every possibility, even when the person who first wanted it has quietly changed her mind,
I keep returning to old beginnings, I am afraid that choosing what matters now will make the things I leave untouched look like wasted pieces of my life,
I keep returning to old beginnings, am I still drawn to this work because something in me wants to continue, or because I cannot bear to accept that I have truly changed,
I keep returning to old beginnings, while the life I am living now waits for me to stop treating every former desire as a promise I must fulfill…
I yearn for more space, but setting something aside feels like abandoning a significant part of myself that once held unwavering belief, evoking a peculiar sense of guilt to grief,
I yearn for more space, without pretending that every abandoned direction was a mistake or that the time I spent there taught me nothing worth keeping,
I yearn for more space, though I still catch myself looking backward at what might have happened if I had been more patient, more certain, or simply a different kind of person,
I yearn for more space, I ask myself, can I let a past version of me have wanted something sincerely without making her desire a lifelong obligation,
I yearn for more space, I cannot give my present work the attention it needs while every old possibility keeps asking me to prove that I never stopped believing in it…
I am learning to choose what stays, not because any of them were worthless, but because my attention is limited and I want what I give it to last,
I am learning to choose what stays, even when the decision disappoints my former self, who believed persistence could make any path possible,
I am learning to choose what stays, trusting that a blueprint left unbuilt is not a broken promise to the person who first drew it,
I am learning to choose what stays, as I ask myself each morning, what would I keep building if I never had to explain my days to anyone, even to myself,
I am learning to choose what stays, giving my unfinished past a place in my story without allowing it to become the measure of my present, because I do not have to finish understanding everything that happened before I can begin living what is still possible…
Watchwords:
A room where every corner was asking something
The person who first wanted it
A lifelong obligation
My attention is limited
The weight that keeps deciding my present
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: