I spent years building myself
from what the world could see—
titles, praise, control,
all carefully held together
by the need to feel enough.
I called it strength,
but deep down,
it was fear;
fear of being forgotten,
fear of being ordinary,
fear of simply being.
Eventually, the weight became too much.
Not all at once,
just slowly—
a quiet tiredness I couldn’t explain.
So I stopped running.
I sat with the silence I once avoided.
And in that stillness,
something softer began to speak.
Not everything had to be proven.
Not every thought needed a voice.
The self I had been chasing
was already there—
just buried beneath noise.
The ego is still here.
It still rises when I feel unseen.
But now I notice it,
acknowledge it,
and let it pass.
I move with less urgency now,
and more intention.
I listen more.
I carry less.
I am no longer building a version of myself;
I am returning
to what was true all along.
Showkat Shah
Apr 6, 2025
Apr 6, 2025 at 10:13 PM UTC
I spent years building myself
from what the world could see—
titles, praise, control,
all carefully held together
by the need to feel enough.
I called it strength,
but deep down,
it was fear;
fear of being forgotten,
fear of being ordinary,
fear of simply being.
Eventually, the weight became too much.
Not all at once,
just slowly—
a quiet tiredness I couldn’t explain.
So I stopped running.
I sat with the silence I once avoided.
And in that stillness,
something softer began to speak.
Not everything had to be proven.
Not every thought needed a voice.
The self I had been chasing
was already there—
just buried beneath noise.
The ego is still here.
It still rises when I feel unseen.
But now I notice it,
acknowledge it,
and let it pass.
I move with less urgency now,
and more intention.
I listen more.
I carry less.
I am no longer building a version of myself;
I am returning
to what was true all along.
Showkat Shah