I Am Lost, But I Exist

I am lost — but I exist.
Somewhere beneath a pile of hundreds of chores and duties, I breathe. I move through the day, ticking tasks off lists, smiling when expected, surviving each rush. Yet, deep within, there’s a quiet pull — a search for something that could lift me back to the surface.

Time is ticking. Milestones are passing. And it feels like I’ve missed most of them. Still, I yearn — to hope, to rise, to fall, and to rise again.

Some days weigh heavy with sadness, and some shimmer softly with light. Both matter. Both remind me I’m still alive.

I want to run — not from myself, but toward a place where life feels full again. A place where my robe carries countless experiences stitched across its fabric — moments of laughter, tears, courage, and quiet wonder.

I want to fall in love with life, deeply and endlessly.

Maybe this post will get buried among millions. But still — I write.
Because I want to be read.
Because somewhere out there, maybe someone else feels lost too… and needs to know — they still exist.