I sat in traffic yesterday, stuck in a slow crawl of red brake lights and half-hearted turn signals. You know the drill—radio low, coffee cooling, mind elsewhere. But something strange caught my eye.
I looked around at the other drivers. A man in a suit mouthing silent words to no one. A woman with smudged mascara staring blankly ahead. A kid in the backseat scrolling endlessly. And for a split second, it was like we were all mannequins. Moving. Breathing. But hollow. Like the lights were on, but nobody was home.
I don’t think we notice it happening. This slow dimming. One small compromise at a time. We trade wonder for deadlines. Connection for convenience. Presence for productivity. Until one day, we wake up and we’re still alive—but we’re not really living.
What does “being alive” even mean anymore?
Is it checking all the boxes?
Paying all the bills?
Posting something that gets enough likes to remind you that you exist?
Or is it something quieter? Softer? Something we haven’t touched in a while?
Sometimes, the grief isn’t loud. It doesn’t scream. It just whispers, gently—you’ve been gone a long time. Not to the world. But to yourself.
So here’s a small challenge. Just for today. Don’t chase anything. Don’t numb anything. Just feel one real thing. The warmth of your dog’s fur. The first bite of something sweet. The way the sky looks right before sunset. Anything. As long as it’s real.
Because the moment you feel it—really feel it—you’ll remember what it means to come home to yourself.
#wakingupinside #modernlifehollow #emotionalnumbness #feelonething #lonewolfchronicles
No comments:
Post a Comment