Cancer
What was and what may be lie, like children whose faces we cannot see, in the arms of silence. All we have is here, now.
Ursula K. Le Guin
The thing you are afraid of wanting is the same thing you have been quietly moving toward for months. You recognize this in the small choices that keep pointing the same direction, the way you linger on certain conversations or bookmark certain possibilities. Fear and ambition wear the same face when the stakes feel personal, when success would mean letting people see a version of you that you are not sure you can sustain. But the wanting is already there, steady as your own pulse, and it has been making decisions through you whether you name it or not. The question is not whether to trust it, but how long you plan to pretend it belongs to someone else.