Fikcja jest modna

It's as if someone has finally turned off the internal controller and allowed you to simply... breathe. No analysis, no anxious ‘what ifs,’ no endless marathons of self-improvement. Here, it's all about exhaling. About a back that doesn't slouch under the weight of other people's expectations, and a head where the cries of the inner support chat have quieted for a moment.

It sounds light, almost sterile, but not cold. This is not euphoria - it is normality, the very thing that everyone is looking for and no one recognises when they find it. The irony is that in order to learn to live easily, you first have to learn to forget. The old, anxious self, dependent on other people's likes and opinions.

The result is not a hymn to freedom, but a quiet toast to stability. To the ability not to disappear in this noise, even if it sometimes seems easier to dissolve.