There comes a moment when you realize you’re standing at the edge of something old, something that has held you for so long it almost feels like home. But it’s not home. It’s a holding place, a waiting room between who you were and who you’re becoming.
And then, the pull.
It whispers in familiar tones, telling you to stay, to take the easy path, to slip into old comforts that once kept you safe. The mind bargains, offering a hundred reasons why one more time won’t hurt. But deep down, you know. You know that every time you choose what’s easy, you trade a piece of the life you’re meant to have. Every time you give in, you delay the person you were meant to become.
So you breathe.
You let the whisper come. You let it beg, plead, make its case. And then you stand still, unmoved. Not because you’re forcing yourself to resist, but because you’ve decided. Because you’ve seen the other side, the person waiting for you there. They move with intention, speak with clarity, live without compromise. They know that time is sacred. They know that moments are currency. And they refuse to spend them on things that steal from their future.
This isn’t about rules. It’s about trust. Trusting that the right moment will reveal itself. Trusting that discipline isn’t restriction—it’s freedom. Trusting that when you let go of the things that hold you back, the only thing left is forward.
So you step.
Not because it’s easy. Not because you don’t feel the pull. But because you know exactly where you’re going.
And you refuse to be late.