In the vast tide of life,
where everyone seems to know where they’re headed,
I often feel like driftwood—
unanchored,
a nameless shape carried by the current.
Just another soul swallowed by the noise.
Unnoticed. Unremarkable.
So I disappear—
not completely,
just enough.
Enough to escape the weight of eyes,
expectations,
and the crushing need to measure up.
In the corners of rooms,
behind small smiles and polite nods,
I hide.
It’s safer there, behind masks and silence,
where no one can see the chaos
or the dreams I’ve buried so deep
even I sometimes forget they’re mine.
But beneath the stillness,
there’s a storm—
a quiet, desperate hunger to be more.
Not louder.
Not perfect.
Just real.
I don’t have all the answers—
hell, half the time I can’t even frame the question.
Who am I really?
What am I meant for?
Do I even matter?
These thoughts echo at night
when the world is quiet
and I’m left alone with myself.
But I’ve grown tired of waiting for something to change.
So I start walking—slow, unsure—
into the unknown.
Not because I’m fearless,
but because staying lost hurts more than risking the fall.
And with every step,
I feel a part of me waking up.
The one I’ve silenced.
The one I’ve shamed.
The one that wants to be seen.
Piece by piece, I peel off the layers
of self-doubt,
of “not enough,”
of trying to be what I think the world wants.
And what’s underneath
isn’t flawless—
but it’s mine.
For the first time, I stop fading.
I let myself be present.
Visible.
Not just surviving—
but becoming.
No longer just a face in the crowd.
No longer apologizing for existing.
I am here.
I am me.
And I am worthy of this space I occupy.
This isn’t the end of my search.
But it is the beginning
of finally choosing myself.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes in the Abyss
General FictionInside my head, it's like a bustling market, everyone and everything fighting for a spot in my thoughts. Memories collide with worries, while dreams try to make their case. It's noisy-like a room full of people all talking at once, pushing and pulli...
