Soft Catastrophes
- Feb 27
- 1 min read
Updated: Mar 3
The air grows teeth,
and I am chewed by the what ifs.
“What if I fail?”
“What if the vision takes too long to be materialized?”
“What if I never make it?”
“What if they laugh at me?”
“What if I am misunderstood?”
And then it hit me, that
maybe, the teeth were mine all along.
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