Stuck

You’re not stuck because you can’t, you’re stuck because you won’t.

That line won’t stop echoing in my head. It’s brutal — because it’s true.

I’ve spent so long blaming the world, the pain, the past, the people who broke me. But the truth is, I’ve built my own walls and then called them safety. I’ve chosen the comfort of misery over the risk of change. It’s easier to sit in the ruin I know than to walk toward something uncertain.

There’s a twisted kind of peace in staying stuck — it asks nothing of me except surrender. No effort, no failure, just the quiet hum of stagnation disguised as survival.

But I know better. I’m not trapped — I’m avoiding. Avoiding the climb, the fall, the chance that something might actually work out. Because what if it doesn’t? What if I get free and still feel empty?

Maybe that’s the scariest part — realizing I could move, but choosing not to.