I wonder if we’re all scared of what happens when we stop.

I’ve been thinking that I’m tired of being so productive. Of moving ‘til my legs hurt. Filling up my plate for fun. Then missing out on the quiet to follow my dreams.

I’ve been thinking that I’m tired. There I said it. Tired of being alone, tired of shaking, tired of trying to stay still. I’ve been thinking that maybe I need to sit down? Take some time to not strive for anything at all? Put my feet up and not pick up a book? Frankly, I deem this my era of trash tv and talking shit. Tuning myself out for once and not fixing all the problems. Not working on myself until every kink is straight.

I can’t believe how long it’s been since my mind has been quiet. How long it’s been since the world wasn’t on fire. How much spinning is still left inside.  How my feet are still moving even when there’s nowhere to go.

I wonder if we’re all scared of what happens when we stop. Is that when we see our lives more clearly? Finally get the fog out of our frames and eat less of our own bullshit? I wonder if that’s why we’ve been running this way. Avoiding hard truths. Unironically chasing peace. Digging our own graves. Clawing our way out and declaring victory. I wonder if the world is telling us to be quiet. Sit silent and weep ‘til we’re through. Take down our armor. Ring out the toxins. Thaw until we are done with our hot heads. I wonder if this is the unpolite way to say stand still. The necessary gift of breath. The right answer to the question “what’s next.” I wonder if this is what it sounds like when the gears stop grinding. An empty adventure that’s full of new life. A self proclaimed disaster artist. Overflowing with hope and peace. Hissing new silence at every beat.