yield for oncoming thoughts 💭 More in tune with the voices I live with. More conscious effort to understand the changes and motives in me after years of rerouting the empathy for everyone else. More elevated consciousness when I’m alone. The concoction that age and proximity have in turning the years we rearrange everything not to be alone into the ones we seek the sanctity of isolation with the same one we used to try and outrun. I imagine it will take me years longer to plant myself somewhere in the middle of these two buoys I feel as though now I only know how to teleport between. Less worry, more experience that flavors us like wine. Pain and joy shed notes all over our bodies, wrinkle the skin, and loosen our grip. Less worry, more space.