I’ve spent a lot of my life being two different people.

One knew how to walk into a room, lift the mood, make people comfortable, and keep things moving. The other knew how to carry weight, take hits, stay steady, and keep going long after the charm wore off.

The first was a circus pony.
The second was a warhorse.

I’m not sure if I was born this way or if life trained me into both.

Somewhere along the way, I lost myself.

Maybe I’ve known it for a while. Maybe I’ve just worked hard not to look at it too closely.

It’s Thursday morning. I’m staring into a cup of coffee while lo-fi jazz drifts through the room, and somehow even the music feels at odds with the noise in my head. My mind has been stuck in it for weeks.

How in the world did I get here?