Light, find the light. I know it’s hard to see right now, but hold on to something. I can feel you falling. You wanna jump off and go all the way down. One bad habit returns, and then all of them think they can. So they all start crawling back into your mind. It feels like you’re suffocating. You feel ashamed, you’re falling to the same things you defeated with ease. Stop it right there, you haven’t fallen yet. Your hands are empty, do something. Reach out and catch yourself with directed action. The thoughts will still come, but when you do what you said you were going to do, they will have to depart. They won’t belong, because you’d have proven them wrong once again.
It’s in these moments that the battle feels the most uneven—when the shadows convince you they’ve already won. They feed on hesitation, on the seconds you spend looking down instead of forward. The longer you let them linger, the more they multiply, wrapping themselves around every thought until even breathing feels like a chore. But their power isn’t in their presence—it’s in your inaction. They only grow when you stand still.
You’ve been here before, in this narrowing tunnel of thought, and you’ve climbed out before. The rope has always been there, waiting for you to grab hold. It doesn’t require perfection or even confidence—it requires one step. Just one act that breaks the cycle and puts you in motion. The moment you move, their grip begins to loosen. Momentum becomes the oxygen that clears the suffocating air.
And when you do rise, when you cut through their noise with proof of action, you become untouchable for a time. The old habits retreat, reminded that this mind has teeth, that this body will fight for itself. You may meet them again, but each time you do, you’ll stand with a sharper edge, a clearer aim, and a memory of the last time you sent them fleeing.
