Behind the Scenes

At some point, I stopped recognizing myself. The things that used to make me feel alive had become a blurry memory. Getting excited by an idea. Disappearing into a story. Making something just to see what it might become. I remembered feeling that way, but I could no longer remember how to get there. The rest of me kept going. Work, expectations, the ordinary grind of being an adult. Most days, though, I felt like I was moving through the motions of a life that used to belong