What else could be true?
On Wednesday, I wrote a haiku from a table in the shade by the Brooklyn Piers.
The feeling is real.
Maybe the story isn’t.
What else could be true?
I paired my words with a face. Something I’ve been wanting to try for a while.
I didn’t like my first attempt—the words and drawing were too far apart, it felt disjointed, and the face didn’t quite convey the feeling in my chest—so I tried again.
The second time, I nailed it.
It’s everything I needed in that moment: acknowledgment, encouragement, a gentle redirection away from cynicism toward curiosity.
Because if the stories I’ve been holding on to aren’t as true as they’ve felt, maybe there are other, truer stories I could be telling myself instead. Ones that make me feel more empowered than defeated; more connected than misunderstood.
Maybe those new feelings will inspire me to take different action. Maybe taking different action will lead me to better results.
Looking at this finished piece, I feel something like relief. There are more possibilities than I’ve realized, and more paths to get to them than I could see before.
I just needed a reminder to notice them.
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