Chic

The train is going somewhere far away, and my thoughts, like suitcases without handles, are dragging along behind it. It seems like I should let go, but it's a pity. The world flashes by outside the window, while inside a quiet argument rages between the one who wants to appear strong and the one who just wants to breathe. Everything seems to be going according to plan: new cities, new faces, and the habit of being "on the move" has become something like armour. Only beneath it still lives the one who dreamed of flying, but now prefers simply not to fall. A paradoxically calm feeling, as if life has truly taught me to stand on my own two feet without unnecessary drama. Jeans instead of expensive suits, honesty instead of pretence. You don't need to be someone else to stay yourself, even if you have to pretend to be confident to do it.