There are days when I forget the power cord. Days I leave the notebook behind. Moments I sit down, ready to work, only to realize the pen never made it into the bag.

 

​And in those moments, something old used to rise—shame, frustration, a whisper that said, “You’re not doing this right.” But I don’t listen to that voice anymore. ​Because this is the truth: Evolving doesn’t look like perfection. It looks like chaos turned into pattern, one mistake at a time.​​​​