There comes a quiet moment when you realize the floor isn't actually gone, you've just been lying there too long, staring at the cracks, calling them your fate. So tell me, how long are you going to stay down there? How long are you gonna keep tracing old wounds like they're maps that still lead somewhere? How long are you going to keep blaming people who have already moved on, keep replaying a past that isn't even happening anymore, keep squeezing meaning out of things that have nothing left to give? The moments you keep replaying are gone. lets be honest, no one is coming to rescue you, and the life you want isn't waiting patiently while you overthink your way in circles. What happened, happened. It's done. The only thing still keeping it alive is you. And your potential? It's not lost, it's being quietly wasted in hesitation, in excuses, in pretending that thinking about change is the same as actually changing. At some point, this stops being about your past and starts being about your choice to stay there. So how long really? Because the truth is harsh but simple, nothing is holding you down anymore except the story you keep telling yourself and your refusal to stand up and move forward.