Saying It Out Loud

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This can’t be it.

Right?

I can’t be looking at the next forty years of my life. There has to be something more.

I’m not even sure you’re supposed to say that out loud.

Maybe it’s a quarter-life crisis talking, or maybe it’s real. Breathing. Peering out from the shadows of long days and screaming at the top of its lungs. Maybe there is something more.

But I can’t quite put my finger on it. All I know is that I’m not ungrateful for what is, and it isn’t lost on me that what is should be enough.

But somehow it isn’t, and I guess that’s okay, too.

Restlessness promises opportunities if you’re brave enough to chase after them, and I want so badly to be brave.

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