Life is so full, at times. Coffee, Eat, Work, Sleep, Repeat. It goes on and on, repeating itself. You either run the mill or break out of the cycle. Most keep chugging along like a train destined for nowhere.
Every time I try to step away, something pulls me back into the dark hole of the grind. It whispers, Keep striving, keep hustling. You are no one unless your name is known. Prove yourself. It sucks me in. I ignore the sirens and red lights, racing past the warning signs. Eager to please, to be heard and known and loved by people I don’t even know.
The day goes on, the clock moves quickly. Before I can breathe it’s over. It’s in the quiet moment of the night—driving home in the dark—when I remember to slow down. To step away. To find peace and sacred space away from this crazy world. Tomorrow, I say, tomorrow will be different.
But the alarm goes off, the coffee kicks in and the grind is as powerful as ever. Sometimes it uses seduction, appealing to the small part of my soul that craves for attention, for fame. Other days it capitalizes on fear. No one will remember you. Your life is meaningless, it hisses.
So I go round and round. Keep chugging, continue hustling. The costume remains glued to my skin until it is my skin. I've faked it for so long that I've become who I am not. And I wonder, how did I get here? Because here, peace does not exist.
Take me to the mountains. Let me build my castle between the towering peaks of the earth. The voices cannot reach me there, the grind does not exist between the jagged mountain tops.
Or maybe I will make my bed in the sand, falling asleep to the rhythm of the waves. I will wash away the costume I’ve become and let my bare skin feel the soil of the earth.