I quit rushing and nothing collapsed

I used to rush everywhere.

For no real reason. Just always moving. Always next. Like stillness was something to be afraid of.

And somewhere in all that rushing I lost myself. Not dramatically. Just slowly. The way you lose something small and do not notice until one day you reach for it and it is gone.

I was tired in a way I could not explain to people. Not sleepy tired. Tired of being in a constant state of almost. Almost done. Almost ready. Almost enough.

One day I stopped.

I did not plan it. My body just said no and for once I listened.

I sat outside. The sun was on my face. The world kept moving and I did not move with it.

And I waited for everything to fall apart.

It did not.

That is the thing about urgency. Most of it is invented. We create emergencies out of ordinary moments because we forgot that ordinary moments are allowed to just be ordinary. Quiet. Unremarkable. Enough.

Now I eat and I taste my food. I walk and I see the street. I let mornings belong to me before I give them to anyone else.

And some days I sit with something warm in my hands and I look at the sky and I feel it. That thing I was rushing past for years. That simple, quiet feeling of being alive and knowing it.

Nothing collapsed when I slowed down.

Everything I was running toward was already here. I was just moving too fast to see it. 🌿