There once was a time when everything shimmered with mystery. When the air itself felt alive, and even silence hummed with potential. Before the awakening, before the glasses were put on, life was new—untamed, glowing at the edges. You didn’t yet know that truth could sting, that knowing could cost you softness. Back then, wonder was enough.
But once the glasses were placed upon your eyes, the world rearranged itself. You began to see everything for what it truly was—no illusions, no gentle fog, no more pretending that light didn’t cast a shadow. Every person, every choice, every quiet heartbreak revealed its bones. And there it was: the truth that nothing happens for a reason. Everything happens by choice.
Each morning you rise, you craft the next scene of your life. You walk into the stages you built, step into the lines you wrote long before you remembered holding the pen.
And yet, even knowing that, people cling to their boxes—good, bad, ugly. They sort life like an old attic, labeling pain and joy as if naming them gives control. But this is only a moment. A brief flicker in a temporary vessel on a spinning stone that someone else once named Earth and called it good.
A knife cuts because someone decided it would. A word wounds because someone gave it the power to. So why can’t you declare something different? Why can’t you decide that loss is only transformation, that endings are only mirrors for beginnings?
Because life is choice—always has been.
You can stand in the driveway of your own story and let the speeding car of circumstance hit you, or you can step aside, breathe, and realize the driver was you all along. The world will kick down your door for reasons you’ll never agree with. You’ll stand before judges of flesh and spirit, defending choices you didn’t know were lessons.
And still—the dog stayed.
That small, loyal truth that some things remain. Not because they must, but because they choose to.
No one who walks away from you was ever meant to stay. No one leaves your life by accident. You don’t lose anyone—they lose you.
Because once the glasses are on, you finally see that love, pain, joy, and loss were never separate things. They were the same light refracted through the lens of awakening.
And once you’ve seen that—
you can never go back to sleep.
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