You've been so focused on becoming someone that you forgot to be someone. The becoming swallowed the being.

You've been in motion since you can remember.

Next goal. Next milestone. Next version.

You are permanently under construction.

The sign has been up so long that people walk past it without reading.

You're always becoming. Never being.

Becoming is addictive because it's forward facing.

It says: the best is ahead. Which means right now isn't good enough.

You've been telling yourself right now isn't good enough for decades.

At what point does right now finally qualify?

The answer keeps moving. Every time you arrive, the bar relocates.

Not because the bar is external. Because you're the one moving it.

You're terrified of the moment after arrival.

The moment where there's no next thing. Just you. Here. Done.

Done feels like dying to someone who defined themselves by the pursuit.

So you never let done arrive.

You add goals the way some people add rooms to a house they never furnish.

The house is enormous. Every room is empty.

You built a mansion of ambition with no furniture of presence.

And you keep adding rooms because sitting in one feels impossible.

You've been becoming for so long you forgot to be. The construction never ends because you're afraid of what happens when it does.