Some parts of me feel distant. Familiar, but unreachable. Like they were placed there by something outside me.
That I arrived after the fact. That decisions were made, shapes were drawn, before I knew I was part of them.
I move through frameworks I didn’t build. Carry names, habits, patterns that formed without asking me. I live inside choices that were already in motion.
I don’t always feel whole. I feel arranged.
I’m trying to notice what’s been stitched into me. Trying to see what still fits. What doesn’t. What was always someone else’s.
