Awakening to Possibility

Listen. There's a version of you that's been waiting. Quietly.

Patiently. While you've been playing it safe. She sat at her desk, staring at the blank

screen. The cursor blinked like a heartbeat she'd forgotten how to follow.

Around her, the walls felt closer each day. Not because the room had shrunk,

but because she had. Her dreams folded smaller and smaller, tucked away like

letters she was too afraid to send. She told herself it was practical. Responsible.

But late at night, when the world went silent, she could feel it. That ache.

The one that whispers you were made for more than this. Then one morning, something shifted.