Transcend, Don’t Escape

I used to vanish in little ways—

extra sleep, extra scrolling,

a bottle of wine that “wasn’t a big deal,”

new cities in my browser tabs

like postcards from someone else’s life.

✧

Escape is easy.

It has a smooth voice.

It says, just one more episode,

just one more distraction,

And you won’t have to feel your own name.

✧

But I’m tired of disappearing.

I don’t want numbness dressed up as freedom.

I want evolution—

the slow, awkward kind

where you trip over your old habits

and still keep walking.

✧

So I sit with the discomfort

like it’s a stray cat on my porch,

skittish, hungry, real.

I breathe through the urge to run.

I let grief talk without interrupting.

✧

Some nights I still reach for the door handle,

old reflex, old fear,

But I turn back to the room I’m in,

open the window instead,

and let the air change me

without me having to leave.