You don't make decisions. You just... drift. One day blurs into the next. Jobs happen to you. Relationships happen to you. You wake up months later wondering how you got here not because anything went wrong, but because nothing was ever chosen. You're not lazy. You're not depressed. You're just... floating. No anchor. No direction. No friction. The problem isn't that you can't decide. It's that deciding feels like dying. Every choice kills the other options. Every commitment closes a door. So you stay in the current, letting life carry you wherever it wants, telling yourself you're being flexible. Open. Going with the flow. But the flow has no destination. And "keeping your options open" has quietly become having no options at all just an endless series of defaults. You didn't choose this job, this city, this relationship. You just didn't leave. That's not the same as staying.
One day you'll look back and realize: you didn't live your life. You watched it happen. The drift felt like freedom. It was the quietest kind of cage.
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