It always felt like eggshells walking around in my seemingly passive existence.

Steps I’d take seemed to consist mostly directed between an overwhelming amount of cracks, making it incredibly hard to navigate these ever-changing eggshells constantly moving, changing, blowing in the wind. You could say, from how carelessly I would notice people obliviously strolling through them.

Only my perceptions would create this narrative, forming a pattern of opinions within this abstract clutter. It would shape to form certain structures of thought, ideas, opinions of value onto someone else’s perceptive beliefs of subjectivity, seemingly objective within its own logic of truth somewhere between those lines.

It would manifest reasonable questions towards answers that would either motivate or discourage myself as an individual walking through my own life, consciously aware of how walking on or around these eggshells would echo my existence outward onto something or someone else.

How dare I place my steps anywhere else than what I thought was expected of myself? Where those limits on where I could walk be a path taken for myself that I could get to without feeling guilty, doubtful, and lacking, while trying to break this mold would reflect back echoes of eggshells cracking underneath my feet through my deepest insecure fears I’ve spoken to myself internally, only to get my self-confirming doubts spoken back to myself around me.

It becomes an uncomfortable dance...