Maybe the tragedy isn’t failing, but becoming so comfortable with waiting that it slowly starts to feel like wisdom.
We convince ourselves that we’re preparing, healing, observing, becoming, that one day the perfect moment will arrive and everything will finally align. But life rarely announces the right time. It just keeps moving, indifferent to our hesitation.
And the longer we wait, the more seductive stillness becomes. You start mistaking caution for intelligence, reflection for movement, patience for destiny. Until one day you realize you’ve become incredibly skilled at standing still while calling it growth.
There’s something terrifying about how easy it is to build an identity around potential instead of action. To romanticize the almost. To live more in imagined futures than in the imperfect present.
Maybe courage has never been about certainty.
Maybe it’s choosing to move while doubting yourself completely.
Because if you wait long enough, fear stops feeling like fear. It simply becomes your personality.
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