Some days she wants to change it all. Chop off her hair. Ink her skin. Throw some bags in the car and take off without a plan. But life holds her in place. Despite the discomfort, despite the itch of wanderlust. No matter the pull to the burn of ink or the holy heat at the edges of things. She knows that sometimes life calls for this. For breathing into the discomfort. For staying still when she would rather run. For not chasing the smaller questions and instead waiting for the larger answer to rise. And through it all allowing herself to be seen not as she yearned to be, but exactly as she is. Beautiful and wanting and true.
