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Tonight, I choose to feel good.

Not because life has suddenly become easier,

not because the world has stopped unraveling

but because I made a conscious choice

to step out of the shadows of constant thinking,

constant bracing, constant grief.

I shut down that part of my mind

that keeps tallying every tragedy,

every disappointment,

every glimpse of a darker future.

It has its place, yes —

but not tonight.

Tonight, I want to float.

To swim in the ocean of the One

who made being itself possible —

the breath behind the cosmos,

the hand that scattered stars like seeds,

the invisible architect of beauty and balance.

I don’t speak of a God in the way religions often define —

but of a greater presence,

a wisdom vast enough to hold sorrow without collapsing,

a mercy that flows through the veins of trees,

the stillness of dawn,

and the tenderness we show one another

when nothing else makes sense.

I surrender my worries —

not to escape,

but to hand them to something stronger than me.

And in return,

I accept peace.

I accept grace.

I accept light.

There may be no better way to stay sane

in a mad and burning world

than to lean into beauty,

to act with love,

and to let hope be a deliberate act of resistance.

Because believing in something greater

— even when everything is broken —

is the most human thing I know.