The unknown

Life is a haze of uncertainty, a river that twists and turns, its waters unpredictable, never revealing what lies ahead. Once, I was certain, believing I could predict the bends, hold the current steady in my hands, but time has taught me how fragile that control is, how fleeting the ground beneath my feet. I once saw the future with eyes full of expectation, believing I could carve my path, define every moment. Now, the future feels like a fog, its edges blurred, its contours shifting with each passing breath. I fear what it might bring— the changes, the unknowns that lie in wait, like shadows on the edge of a dream. As I grow, my mindset changes— from certainty to curiosity, from planning to trusting. But that trust is fragile, because the unknown is vast, and I wonder if it will swallow me whole. I wish for clarity, for answers to the questions I’ve been too afraid to ask. But perhaps it’s in this fear, this uncertainty, that life finds its truest form— not in knowing what’s to come, but in embracing the mystery, in learning to float, rather than control, to trust that even the storm will eventually pass.