I watched the world praise stillness. No commutes. No crowds. Just quiet.
I traded the city for four walls. At first, it felt like peace. Then it became a loop. The same room. The same screen. The same silence.
And slowly, the walls learned my name. The room that once kept me safe is now the one suffocating me. Comfort became a cage.
And I wonder — is this a season, or a warning? Perhaps peace was never the absence of chaos. Perhaps peace isn’t a place. It’s movement, people, and air you didn’t recycle.













