To the Part of You That You Keep Trying to Outrun
I see you chasing sunlight with a hunger that never stills
Being in the present didn’t come naturally to me.
I remember when I was a little girl, whenever I had a good time, I would ask my mom what we were going to do next.
Her answer was always the same:
“Aren’t you enjoying this moment?”
Mine was too:
“Yeah, but… will there be something to look forward to after this?”
I used to think about endings all the time. My mind would constantly search for the next best thing, just so it wouldn’t have to face the inevitable passing of whatever was bringing me joy.
When I watched a good movie, I couldn’t stay with the story; my thoughts jumped ahead, reminding me it was going to end soon. When my sisters came home from college to visit, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that they’d have to leave again. Even when I had a meal I really enjoyed, I would think about the dissatisfaction I’d feel once it was over. That’s why, when I started smoking, it helped me enjoy my food in peace, knowing there was still a spark of excitement waiting on the other side. Smokers will know, there’s nothing quite like the cigarette after a good meal.
All good feelings were shadowed by a fear.
The fear of losing them.
I’ve never been officially diagnosed with ADHD, but I know myself well enough to name it. My brain is wired for constant stimulation.
Even so, I tend to create joy just as much as I seek it in external experiences.
Someone I haven’t known long but feel deeply connected to once told me that being neurodivergent was her superpower.
As soon as I heard the phrase, I adopted it too.
I find happiness in little details that people tend to overlook.
My imagination creates entire worlds when this one feels like it has nothing new to offer.
I romanticise life to such an extent that I earned the title of being the most delusional person I know.
Even then, my brain looked for reasons to undo my joy. It tried to take the happiness away just as it was the one that created it in the first place.
The core of my power had always been the core of my issues too.
Every superhero has a villain. I have always been my own.
In The School of Gods, Stefano Elio D’Anna introduces the idea of the Antagonist as the one who appears to oppose the hero.
To test, sabotage, and crush illusions.
The purpose is not destruction. It’s to purify.
The Antagonist is the gatekeeper of the next level. The ruthless personal trainer of the soul. Screaming, pushing, questioning the reality behind the reasons that kept being pursued. Deep down, it’s building a version of heroes that can carry their true destiny.
It reflects the reality that they refuse to see, mercilessly.
The Antagonist is the sacred figure that proves this in secrecy, when heroes finally break the mirror, reclaim their power, and choose to rewrite their story.
Imagine you’re a hero standing at the edge of transformation.
Every time you’re about to step into something greater, a figure appears at the gate.
A figure with your face, your voice, and your memories.
And it whispers the unbearable reality:
“You’re not ready.”
“You’ll be abandoned again.”
“This will ruin everything you’ve built.”
It is not here to kill your dreams, but to test your devotion to them. Trying to fight will only bring you backward instead of moving forward. The only way through is to ask what it’s guarding, then show the courage to claim it.
Yesterday, during a conversation with a friend, something in me shifted with two simple questions.
He asked what I was looking forward to in life right now.
It made me realise that everything I was excited about was far away, months or years into the future.
None of my current possibilities sparked joy.
I started to feel hollow. Pointless. Like nothing around me was worth staying for.
Then he asked when I was the happiest version of myself during a normal day.
The answer lay in stillness.
“When I have my first cup of coffee in the morning.”
I found the purest form of happiness in quietness.
In a moment that required no expectations.
When my brain is only stirred by a cup of coffee, during the simplest time of the day that life just lets me be.
My whole life, I had been chasing emotional highs, the surges that made me feel alive.
They all came at a cost.
An endless pursuit.
A cycle of disappointment.
I was never satisfied because I kept refusing what I knew all along.
This morning, I woke up to a letter on my bedside table:
To the part of you that you keep trying to outrun,
I see you chasing sunlight with a hunger that never stills.
Your days stretch wide, but they never settle.
You never paused to look back and see what it was costing you.
Busy chasing, only to be let down by what was never meant for you.
You choose illusion over presence.
Fell in love with the possibility.
And romanticised what wasn’t here.
If your joy is real, it won't vanish when the moment disappears.
If your peace is true, it doesn't depend on what comes next.
The power lives in you.
Is it the horizon you’re chasing, or the feeling of home?
Aren’t you tired of running after what hasn’t been accepting you since you’ve been on the road?
The journey isn’t long enough to wait for life to feel cinematic just to arrive where you already belong.
You think you’ve been seeking pleasure, but you’ve been mistaken all along.
You’re seeking permission.
To rest. To belong.
To feel full without having to perform at all.
So, I’ll meet you,
at every door you try to walk through,
in every mirror you avoid,
and ask, without mercy:
“Are you ready to stay? To just simply be?”
— Your Antagonist
That’s when I realised I had been wrong about my Antagonist all along.
