I've never had a five-year plan.
Sometimes, I barely have a Tuesday plan.
But here I am-
heart in one hand, snack in the other,
trying my best not to overthink my own breathing.

People say "be yourself"
like that's a simple thing.
But I've been about five different people this week
and honestly?
They all had good points.

I've felt everything and nothing
at the exact same time,
and let me tell you-
it's a weird party.
No one knows who brought the chips.

I've forgiven myself
for things I still flinch about.
I've moved on
without moving anywhere.
I've stood still
and felt the earth sprint underneath me.

No, I'm not lost.
I'm just...in progress.
A draft.
A half-done thought with great potential.

And maybe that's enough.
Maybe I'm enough
even when I don't feel like a poem.
Just a scribble
with really good timing.