Escapism

 I'm just a product of the system, a catastrophe

And yet a masterpiece, and yet I'm half-diseased

                                                                                (Whatever It Takes, Imagine Dragons)

I think we panic too quickly. The moment something doesn’t work, we want out. Not because it’s impossible, but because sitting inside the discomfort feels unbearable. We mistake unease for danger and uncertainty for failure.

I have felt that urge before, too, to shut things down before they can disappoint me properly. To call it knowing when to let go when I didn’t want to stay just long enough to be unsure. All of this is just for wanting clarity, results, and reassurance immediately, without allowing the process to unfold naturally.

And honestly, failure isn’t even the worst part. It’s the waiting. The uncertainty of whether this will ever make sense. The silent void that forms before something either works or doesn’t. That space where nothing confirms you are on the right path.

What I learnt from this is that not everything that feels heavy is meant to be escaped. Some things need time to settle, to make sense, to teach you what they’re actually asking of you. Discomfort does not always mean misalignment.

I don’t always continue because I’m hopeful. I continue because I don’t want the voice of my soul that says, “Give it a little more time,” to feel betrayed. That voice feels honest, even when it is tired.

Maybe the lesson isn’t to give up, but to pause before doing so. 

To listen to your soul and ensure you are not walking away just to feel comfortable.

Love,

Ash