Deniability

As humans, we crave certainty. We build our lives around predictability, reliability, the illusion that tomorrow is promised. But all it ever really is..is deniability. The soft lie we tell ourselves to avoid the ache of knowing that life owes us nothing.

We live waiting for what’s next, as if foresight could save us from heartbreak.

We waste hours..days..thinking about what ifs and when’s, trying to decode the unspoken script of our future. I’ve done it, too. Too many times to count. Staring at the ceiling, wondering what could have been if I’d just made a different choice, said a different thing, been a little more or a little less of something.

Because at some point, we all end up worn thin..threadbare souls tangled in the noise of our own minds, too tired to move, too restless to rest. The sounds don’t stop. The thoughts get louder. The what-ifs grow teeth.

And then comes the question that never quite leaves me:

What would people say if they knew the whole story?

If they saw the truth not from the polished angle, but from every bruised point of view? Unpolished and raw. Every jagged edge exposed.

Would they see the moments you tried your best,

or only the ones where you fell apart?

Would they recognize how rejection reshapes a person? how it seeps into your skin until even love feels conditional?

There are people who will make you feel like a shadow in your own life,

like belonging is a privilege you have to earn.

You start shrinking to fit their comfort,

and one day you look in the mirror and don’t recognize who you became trying to be enough.

But even in that powerlessness, something small stirs.

A reminder that survival is not failure.

That every scar is a form of language..your body learning how to stay.

Maybe we never get the certainty we crave.

Maybe the search itself is what makes us human.

And maybe belonging isn’t a destination at all

but a quiet decision to keep showing up,

even when no one else sees you there.

Sometimes we have to realize the things we fear losing, were never ours to control