After writing my last post, something stayed with me. That question — “What do I even want?” — kept echoing in my mind like a song on repeat. It’s a question that’s both simple and terrifying, especially when you realize you don’t have an answer.

I think many of us lose our way quietly. Not all at once, but slowly — through responsibilities, expectations, routines. We become what others need us to be: parents, partners, employees, friends. We function, we deliver, we care. And in that process, we stop asking ourselves what we need. What we love. Who we are, beneath it all.

It’s no wonder everything begins to feel like a burden. When nothing feels like your own choice, life becomes something you endure, not something you live.

But maybe the way back isn’t as dramatic as we think. Maybe it starts small. With moments. With paying attention.

What makes your shoulders drop just a little bit?
What makes your breathing slow down?
What makes you forget the time, even just for five minutes?

The answers probably won’t come all at once. You might not have an instant “passion” or life-changing revelation. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll feel a spark — a tiny flicker of you that still exists underneath all the roles you play.

And that’s enough to begin with.

So today, I’m not trying to change my life.
I’m just trying to notice what feels real.
Not useful. Not productive. Just real.

And maybe, over time, that’s how we begin to remember who we are.