I am running.
But I’m not going anywhere.

From the outside,
I look busy,
active,
full of energy.

But inside,
I’m lost.

I run in circles —
around the same worries,
the same habits,
the same patterns,
the same fears.

I run not because I have a destination,
but because standing still
terrifies me.

When I stop,
I have to face myself.
And I don’t know who that is.

So I keep moving.

I change jobs.
I change hobbies.
I change plans.
I change goals.
I change everything
except the one thing that matters:

my direction.

People think I’m flexible,
adaptable,
open to new things.

But the truth is:

I’m afraid of choosing.
I’m afraid of committing.
I’m afraid of being wrong.
I’m afraid of finding out
that even when I choose,
I still feel empty.

So I run in circles —
busy but not fulfilled,
moving but not arriving,
tired but not progressing.

There are moments
when I catch myself
doing the same things
I promised I would stop doing.

Moments when I realize
I’ve been here before —
this same confusion,
this same exhaustion,
this same loop.

And I whisper to myself:

“How did I end up here again?”

I don’t know when I’ll break the circle.
I don’t know if I’ll ever find a straight path.
I don’t know if clarity will come
from slowing down
or from finally choosing something
and staying with it.

But I know one thing:

I’m not running forward.
I’m not running backward.
I’m just running —
because I don’t know how to stop.

And sometimes,
just having someone understand that
is enough to make the circle
feel a little less tight.