Again on the highway. Again the passenger princess, the role I never auditioned for but so grateful I have the privilege to play on. Today I’m not glamorous, not scrolling happily through playlists or sipping iced coffee like a cliché Instagram reel. Today I’m quiet, tired, and heavy. My spirit aches, my body echoes the storm outside, and I just watch the road unravel ahead of me.

Rain lashes at the windshield, and for a moment, the clouds feel personal, like they’ve been sent as a mirror for my insides. Low, heavy, pressing close to the earth. I can feel their weight in my chest. And instead of pushing it away, I just let it move through me. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to cry.

Life right now feels like running on the last fumes of petrol, hoping you’ll roll into the next station before the engine dies. Every day is an autumn morning, foggy, unclear, but slowly, step by step, the sun rises, the fog lifts, and you can carry on.

But in the meantime, I cry. For the who-knows-how-many time this week. Life is unfair. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

This week, my mind was strong but my body hurt. Today, my body holds decently but my mind falters. That’s okay. I’m entitled to feel this way. It’s not easy to move, breathe, parent, work, and meet expectations all at once. Some days you’re a passenger princess; some days you’re just a passenger holding on, hoping the road doesn’t end before you do.

And yet, the road keeps going. And so do I.