The hardest thing of all is to belong—
not to a place,
not to a person,
but to the moment you’re standing in
without shrinking yourself to fit it.
Belonging asks for courage.
It asks you to stay visible
when hiding would be easier,
to plant your feet
when every instinct tells you
to keep moving.
It’s learning how to be here
without apology.
The oddest thing of all is time.
How it slips through your fingers
even when you’re paying attention.
How it rushes past the moments
you’d beg to keep
and lingers in the ones
you’re trying to survive.
Time teaches you too late
what mattered most.
It turns now into then
without asking permission,
and suddenly you’re holding memories
instead of people,
lessons instead of chances.
Maybe belonging and time
are tied together—
maybe we struggle to belong
because we’re always afraid
of when.
When it will change.
When it will end.
When it will hurt.
So we hover at the edges,
half-in, half-out,
thinking distance will protect us.
But all it does
is make the passing louder.
The hardest thing of all
is choosing to belong anyway.
The oddest thing of all
is realizing time never waited
for us to decide.
Through the Fog 