I stopped chasing.
I grew tired. I just wanted to stop. Come to a restful place. Be okay with where I was.
When I looked around, I was content. Not happy, not sad. Longing for the days when I thought chasing was the way, because I always believed that what I got when the chase was over would have been worth the effort.
I was so sad. Wondering how long I needed to keep going. And so, I gave up. I gave up running. I gave up rushing. I gave up grinding myself into dust for the benefit of others.
I gave up hoping that one day people would behave differently. I gave up believing that if I tried hard enough, they would change. I gave up wishing, hoping, longing, seeking. And, in letting go, my heart finally had the space it needed to see that I was enough all along.
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