The Life Left Delayed

On what happens when you keep choosing everyone else first.

Author’s image. (Following someone else’s path)

Everyone seemed to know What they wanted. Their plans arrived fully formed, Spoken with a certainty I learned to trust More than my own.

So, I followed. One adjustment became another, A compromise turned habit. The years accumulated quietly, Passing without ceremony, Without asking much of me.

Meanwhile, my own wants Sat untouched for a while, Gathering dust in forgotten corners. They returned every so often, Familiar enough to recognize, Distant enough to ignore.

I was a child Trying to keep pace With expectations that felt older Than I was. Growing into responsibility Before understanding the cost.

Useful where I was needed. Present when called upon. Easy to place Within the lives of others, Fitting neatly into spaces Already prepared for me.

My own life felt less certain. Not absent — just postponed. Set aside for practical reasons, For better timing, For circumstances that never seemed To arrive.

Some dreams disappeared entirely. Others remained where I left them, Waiting without complaint. Like unopened letters Stacked in a drawer, Their contents unchanged by time.

And now I find myself Looking back more often, At the roads not taken, At the choices made For reasons that seemed reasonable At the time.

I wonder about the versions of me Still standing at those crossroads, The ones who chose differently, Who spoke a little sooner, Who trusted themselves enough To go another way.

Not with regret, exactly. Just curiosity. A quiet awareness Of how easily a life can form Around the needs of others Without meaning to.

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