•4 weeks ago•
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This morning I sat by the window longer than usual, watching how the light changed on the wall opposite my desk. At first it was pale and diffuse, then it sharpened into a bright rectangle that slowly crept across the plaster. I noticed I was holding my breath without meaning to, as if the silence itself was something I might disturb.
I've been thinking about a mistake I made yesterday. A friend asked me a simple question—"How are you really doing?"—and instead of pausing to consider, I rushed into an answer. Something vague and reassuring. Later, walking home, I realized I hadn't actually checked in with myself before responding. It was automatic, a reflex. Not dishonest exactly, but not quite true either.
How often do I do that?