Begin again
Some days, I feel small.
I question the road behind me, and I can’t see the one ahead.
I remember the rejections. The failures. The quiet rooms I wasn’t invited into.
I remember the dreams I tied to people, places, and institutions—and how those dreams dissolved when the gate stayed shut.
And then I remember:
I can begin again.
I don’t need permission.
Not from institutions. Not from authority figures. Not from anyone who underestimated me.
I don’t need proof that I’ll succeed this time.
I don’t need guarantees.
I only need the courage to start—again.
Because I’ve learned:
My strength is not in how perfectly I rise.
My strength is in the fact that I always do.
I am not here to perform.
I am here to grow. To learn. To build. To serve.
I will keep walking.
I will keep creating.
I will keep loving.
I will keep returning—to the work, to the silence, to the truth of who I am.
My worth is not measured by outcomes.
My freedom is not granted by others.
Curiosity is the foundation of enlightenment.
My grandfather said that. He was right.
So I begin again.
With fewer illusions, but a stronger heart.
With deeper faith, and lighter hands.
I may fail.
And when I do, I’ll begin again.
Because I am free to act.
I remain free—as long as I don’t shackle myself to the outcome.
And even if I do what is right and it is not enough—
I will still find a way to land on my feet.
Because I always have.
And I will seek the truth—fearlessly.
I know it may not be popular, or profitable, or liked.
But the truth is immutable and absolute.
In an otherwise ephemeral existence, truth also tends to be the right thing in the long run.
It is the only pursuit worth living for.
So I begin again.