I feel the weight of borrowed days,
like I’ve been living inside a stranger’s skin,
moving through moments that belong to someone else.
I had a plan once,
or at least I thought I did—
but now it feels like I’m watching from the outside,
as if I stepped out
just as everything fell into place,
for a version of me
that I no longer recognize.
The world spins on,
each piece falling perfectly
into hands that aren’t mine.
I watch it,
my life,
moving forward without me,
and wonder when I lost the rhythm
that used to feel so sure.
Is it too late to step back in,
to take up the space I left behind,
or has that life moved on
to someone else?
