maybe none of this means anything

Lately, I’ve been wondering
what the point of any of this is.

The breath in. The breath out.
The deadlines. The inbox. The striving.
The trying-so-hard-to-be-a-person
in a world that forgot what it means to be human.

I think about how we live entire lives
performing purpose
we’re too tired to even believe in.

We chase meaning.
We chase healing.
We chase goals we don’t even want.
And somewhere along the path,
we lose the people we swore we were doing it for.

And still —
we wake up.
We scroll.
We go to work.
We show up.
We apologize for being quiet.
We smile so people know we’re “okay.”

But here’s the truth I’m finally okay whispering:

Maybe life isn’t that deep.
Maybe there’s no grand meaning behind it all.
Maybe we’re just a moment in time
doing our best
to stay here.

And maybe that’s not emptiness.
Maybe that’s freedom.

✧ quiet prompt:

What if your worth wasn’t tied to how meaningful you made everything?

🌒 next layer:

→ read: existing isn’t a failure → chapter: underneath