There’s a quiet war inside me. A battle between what I know and what I suspect, and what I pretend not to see. It’s easier that way—avoiding contradictions, turning my head away from uncomfortable truths. I tell myself it’s self-preservation, but deep down, I know it’s just fear.
We avoid many contradictions: we'd rather not look too closely because it would make us feel bad, or stupid, or helpless. I get it. I’ve done it. I do it still. It’s far easier to ride the wave of habit than to step into the unknown and question everything. Because if I question too much, I might be forced to change my life.
And change is terrifying.
I look at myself sometimes and think, why are you like this? Why do I resist what I know would make me better? I hold myself back, clip my own wings, build my own prison. Behind the handcuffs of the past, I stay locked in old patterns, bound by invisible restraints that I alone reinforced over the years. I act as if the keys are lost, but I know exactly where they are. I just don’t always have the courage to reach for them.
Maybe it’s because part of me still clings to the arrogance of the know-it-all. That sneaky little voice that whispers, You already understand everything. You’ve figured it out. You don’t need to rethink things. I have a complicated relationship with that voice. It makes me feel secure, wise even—but I know better. I know that certainty can be a trap, that wisdom is fluid, and that arrogance is often just insecurity in disguise. Still, I let it comfort me when I don't feel like doing the hard work of re-evaluating.
But I’m not alone in this. Politicians are perhaps the greatest victims of this fear-based illusion, believing that with the right policies, controls, and manoeuvres, they can manage the world. Their arrogance, wrapped in a false sense of order, blinds them to reality. They manipulate, legislate, and dictate, thinking they hold the answers, while the world they attempt to control continues to unravel. In their pursuit of power, they refuse to acknowledge their own contradictions, their own failures, their own fears. And yet, they convince themselves they are the saviours.
But then, inevitably, something cracks through. A moment of clarity. A reminder that I don’t want to be a prisoner to my own fears, to my own arrogance, to my past. I want to be free, even if that means dismantling everything I thought I knew.
I am my own worst enemy, but I can also be my own liberator. And that’s where the real battle lies—not in the outside world, not in other people, not in circumstances beyond my control. Just in me. Facing myself, questioning myself, unlearning the things that keep me stuck. Choosing courage over comfort.
I don’t always win. But I keep fighting.
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