Because we spend so much of our lives arguing with the circumstances. Fighting the beginning we were given. Resenting the ending we cannot control. And somewhere in that argument we forget that the entire middle belongs to us. Completely. Without condition.

You did not choose where you started. You will not negotiate what comes at the end. But every single thing that happens between those two fixed points is a decision. A direction. A choice about what you do with what you were handed. Whether you let the circumstances define you or simply inform you. Whether you carry them as a prison or as a starting point.

That is not a small thing. That is everything.

This poem does in two lines what most writers cannot do in two pages. It removes every excuse and every complaint and every reason we give ourselves for not fully living and replaces them all with a single unbearable and liberating truth.

What happens in between is up to you.

— Khadija | @sheknowsall.blog

You were handed a beginning and an ending. Everything in between was always yours to write

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