We all carry something.
Some weights are visible. Most are not.
Regrets. Dreams. Promises we made to ourselves.
He chose what to carry. And he walks anyway.
The grief you pretend is healed?
The promise you made to yourself at 17?
The hope you're afraid to feel?
Freedom is not the absence of weight.
Freedom is choosing your weight.
The visible:
Jobs we outgrew. Relationships we question.
The invisible:
Words we never said. People we used to be.
The chosen:
Memories we refuse to forget. The courage to keep walking.
But we walk anyway.
What do you carry?
"The road doesn't care where you're going.
It only asks that you walk."