I thought by now I would have figured it out. Life. Myself. The mysterious purpose of fitted sheets. But I keep becoming someone new. Every time I think I’ve finally arrived life quietly moves the destination. For years, I thought growth would feel like certainty. Instead, it feels like letting go of people I thought I would become. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe we’re not here to find ourselves.…
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.