Just Another Tuesday
For a long time, I couldn’t figure out where some of my expectations came from.
Not the ones someone explicitly taught me. The quieter ones. The things that just felt like how life was supposed to go.
What made the question stranger was that sometimes I knew better.
Intellectually, I could look at an expectation and think, That doesn’t actually make sense. But knowing that didn’t always change the feeling underneath it.
So I started wondering: If I don’t believe this anymore, why do I still expect it?
One possible answer came from writing fiction.
Writing changed the way I watch movies. Once…
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