scary, scary, scary

This week, I’ve started waking up afraid.

Not every day.

But enough that I’ve stopped pretending it’s a phase.

There’s a moment in the morning, before the phone, before the work, where the weight of everything I’ve built folds into my chest.

It’s not a fear of failing.

It’s something less neat.

The fear that it’s working.

And if it works, there’s no excuse l…