The Day I Stopped Needing Things to Make Sense

There was a time in my life when I tried to explain everything.
Pain.
Distance.
Why someone left without a proper goodbye.
Why something I worked hard for didn’t unfold the way it should’ve.

I needed a narrative. A clean arc. A cause and effect.
I needed the world to behave like a novel — with tension, turning points, and a final chapter where everything clicked into place.

But life, I’ve learned, doesn’t owe us that kind of symmetry.

One autumn, not long ago, I sat at a bus stop in a town I didn’t know well. It had just rained — the kind of fine rain that makes the leaves stick to the pavement like forgotten thoughts.
I had nowhere to be, really.
Something in me had just needed to move.
To not be in the same room with the same questions I’d been looping through for weeks.

A woman sat next to me.
Maybe in her seventies.
She didn’t speak. Just watched the sky, hands folded neatly in her lap like she had all the time in the world.

At some point, she turned and said,
“There’s no need to figure everything out. Some clouds just pass.”

That was it.
She didn’t explain what she meant.
Didn’t need to.

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When Letting Go of the Story Is the Only Way Forward

I had been trying to label everything.
This was a failure.
This was a lesson.
This person was good.
This one hurt me.
This moment is supposed to mean something.

But that need — to name, to sort, to wrap things in understanding — was also the thing keeping me stuck.

Because some moments… are just moments.
Some endings don’t reveal why.
Some chapters remain incomplete.

And when I stopped trying to extract meaning from every detail, I found something better than answers:
Peace.

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Seeing Things As They Are (Not As You Wish They’d Be)

When you stop needing everything to make sense, you begin to see what is.

• A pause isn’t necessarily failure.
• Someone’s silence isn’t always rejection.
• A door closing might not be about you at all.

You start noticing smaller things.
How light lands on a windowsill.
How your breath evens out when you’re not rushing toward clarity.
How sometimes, the absence of something leaves more space than the thing ever could.

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If You’re Looking for Closure, Consider This

Closure isn’t always given.
Sometimes it’s created — not by getting answers, but by releasing the need for them.

Let go of the old emails you keep rereading.
Let go of the question that never got a reply.
Let go of the version of yourself who thought they needed that explanation to move on.

You don’t need to know why someone changed.
You don’t need a perfect ending.
You just need to come back to where your feet are.

Here.
Now.
Alive.

Still becoming.

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Final Thoughts: Meaning Isn’t Always Immediate

There are seasons when life will feel like static.
Moments will arrive that don’t fit any pattern.
Some people will leave without a final word, and some wounds will close without a scar.

You don’t have to find meaning in all of it.
Sometimes, you just have to let it pass through you.
Without gripping. Without judging. Without forcing a name.

That, in itself, is a kind of wisdom.

Not everything has to be resolved.
Some things just need to be witnessed.