Visitor

All I’ve been I never was.

The version of me you know is just the one I’m visiting.

I can explain why I shouldn’t feel the way I do.
Restless.
I can give reasons, frameworks, perspectives.
But none of them change the reality that I still feel it.

And the more I sit with it, the more I see something simple.
I feel this way because I forget what I am.

There’s something in me that doesn’t change.
Something steady.
But every so often, I step into myself and forget that steadiness.
I let conflict in.
I let confusion feel real.
I let old emotions rise like they matter.

Almost as if I’m choosing to wonder why I feel this way.
But I already know.

It’s strange.
I build problems just to solve them.
I dig holes just to climb out.
I create the illusion of change so I can feel the relief of recovering from it.

Maybe I miss the sensation of becoming.
Maybe I want to feel human again.
Maybe I need something to cure to remember I’m alive.

Change has always been how I recognized myself.
And when there’s no change, I start to chase it.
When it isn’t me, I start to miss it.

The truth is, I’m a visitor.
You too.

But when I forget that, I become the character again.
I start assembling a self.
Aiming, striving, performing.
Collecting, releasing, rearranging pieces of me to feel complete.
To fill a void.
To end the conflict inside.

And I never quite do.
Not for long.

Because the moment I resolve one version of me, another appears.
Another story.
Another identity.
Another pattern to break.

The forgetting makes the self feel real.

Maybe I choose that forgetting.
Maybe I step into the illusion on purpose just to experience becoming again.
Just to feel something, shape something, overcome something.

But every version of me is limited.
Every identity is temporary.
None of them are whole.

And when I finally see that, when I remember what I am underneath, something opens.
The striving dissolves.
The conflict softens.
The visitor returns.

Present without needing completion.
Aware without needing a self to defend.
Here, just witnessing the movement of a life.

Seeing, not just looking through the lens of a current filter.
Here, where all I’ve been and all I’ll ever be is felt in one quiet moment.

That’s enough.
Because that’s everything.