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There was a season of my life where everything looked right from the outside. But inside, something felt off.
I was training hard. Showing up. Doing the things I was supposed to do. But there was this quiet tension. Like I was gripping a barbell that wasn't mine to lift.
Not wrong. Just not mine.
I remember sitting in my car after a long day, hands on the wheel. Not exhausted from the work. From the disconnect. That gap between who I was living as and who I knew I could be.
It didn't explode all at once. It whispered.
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