Through the Fog

Tag: stuck

  • The World Wouldn’t Stop Turning

    I didn’t move,

    but the world wouldn’t stop turning.

    Time kept its pace

    while I stood still inside myself,

    watching everything pass

    like I wasn’t part of it anymore.

    The sky seemed blue

    or maybe that was just my emotion

    projecting something softer

    onto a day that didn’t earn it.

    Funny how feelings can repaint reality

    and call it truth.

    I tried so hard to be cool about it,

    to play it off like nothing touched me,

    nursing a half-empty bottle

    or is it half full?

    I could never decide

    if I was losing something

    or still clinging to it.

    I drank for the pause,

    for the quiet between thoughts,

    for the moment where I didn’t have to name

    what was breaking underneath my calm.

    The world kept spinning.

    The sky kept pretending.

    And I sat there measuring my life

    in sips and seconds,

    wondering when stillness

    started feeling heavier

    than motion ever did.

  • Words, They Always Win

    Photo Credit:Maxime Gilbert

    I’ll be so fucking rude,

    because softness never saved me.

    You’ll twist my quiet into guilt,

    call it proof that I don’t care.

    Words, they always win,

    but I know I’ll lose—

    every argument ends

    with me swallowing apologies

    for things I didn’t do.

    You speak like thunder,

    and I break like glass.

    My voice shakes,

    so I let silence speak for me,

    but even silence gets misheard.

    I’m tired of explaining pain

    to people who caused it.

    Tired of pretending I’m fine

    just so no one feels uncomfortable.

    Maybe I’m the villain

    in stories you tell to sleep at night,

    but I know what it costs

    to stay kind in a world

    that only listens when you scream.

    So tonight I’ll be loud,

    I’ll be wrong,

    I’ll be everything you said I shouldn’t—

    and maybe then,

    finally,

    I’ll win something back.

  • 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.