When You Have A Million Things Keeping You Alive But Nothing You’re Living For

At first, you’ll crash. You’ll stumble. You’ll break. It will feel like everything is falling apart because, in a way, it is.

When you realize you have a million things keeping you alive and nothing you’re living for, you’ll find that what you thought was perseverance was resistance.

What you thought was company was the comfort of what was. It was the disguise of the day-to-day pushing you towards what you already have and away from what could be.

When you realize you have a million things keeping you alive and nothing you’re living for, you’ll drop everything. Some things will fall, break. Some things will shatter.

And when they do, you’ll come undone. You’ll find the space to heal.

You’ll discover what it really means to be alive, not living for a million other things like your unknown lover, dream city, and to-be-planned vacations.

When you drop everything, you’ll find the comforting sound that hums underneath it all. You’ll find the power you have to create yourself over and over and over again. You’ll find the power to create yourself a million times over again.

You’ll discover happiness is no longer something you think about because you’ve found something more. You’ve found something to live for. No, you’ve found someone to live for.

Someone floating on the singular groundedness that comes from a willingness to let go.

Someone who believes there’s nothing worth living for if it can’t come undone. If it can’t crash, stumble, and break.

If it can’t be shattered.

So let it all go. Let it all fall apart over and over again. Let it all fall apart a million times over.

You’ll find the liberating security that comes from realizing the only thing to live for is the freedom to let it all fall apart.