Sometimes it feels like everyone else got a map—one that shows them where to go, who to be, what's next. And I'm just here. Standing still while the world keeps moving, like I missed some invisible train I was supposed to catch. I want to do so much with my life. I carry all these dreams in my chest like heavy stars—but when I look around, all I see are empty spaces. It feels like I've accomplished nothing. Like time is slipping and I have nothing to show for it. But maybe the truth is, I've been so focused on where I haven't gotten, I've forgotten to see how far I've already come. Maybe I've been measuring my worth by things I haven't done, instead of honoring the quiet victories I already survived. There are days I feel like I'm walking in circles. Like I'm alive, but not really living. Breathing, but not becoming. It's not that I don't want more—I just don't know where more even begins. And no one tells you how long the silence gets when you're not sure who you are or where you're going. But maybe... maybe this messy middle is still part of the story. Maybe not knowing is okay for now. Maybe some of us bloom slow, not late.