At first, it feels like awakening.
You quit your job.
You light candles.
You meditate instead of doomscroll.
You’re doing the work.
But what you’re really doing is rebranding.
You’re no longer the overachiever — you’re the soft-spoken mystic.
You’re no longer chasing success — you’re chasing stillness.
You’re no longer obsessed with validation — you just “happen to post deeply vulnerable content weekly.”
Cute.
You think this is awakening.
But it’s just a costume change.
Your ego took off the CEO hoodie and put on white linen.
And now it speaks in slow, whispery tones about “alignment” while secretly counting likes.
Let me guess:
You’re afraid of being seen as unconscious, so now you try to perform presence.
You “hold space” for people…
But really, you hold control.
You curate calm.
You master detachment — not from suffering, but from actual intimacy.
Because let’s be honest:
Awakening sounds cooler than feeling.
It’s safer to be enlightened than to admit you're lonely.
Safer to say “this is all a dream” than to confront the fact that you’re not in love with your life — you’re just not in resistance to it anymore.
And so you call that peace.
But it’s not peace.
It’s resignation, dressed up in silence.
You’ve learned the language.
You say “witness the thought.”
You say “let it pass through.”
You say “there’s no self.”
But there’s a part of you still dying to be someone.
A better someone.
The one who finally gets it right — without needing anyone to say “you’re doing great.”
You’re not awakening.
You’re just tired of your own cycles.
You’ve seen them enough times now that you’re calling the boredom “transcendence.”
Let me ask you something brutal:
What if none of your spiritual growth is real?
What if it's just a more elegant avoidance?
What if the version of you that seeks liberation is the same version that’s terrified of actually living?
You’re not afraid of being stuck.
You’re afraid of mattering.
You’re afraid that if you stop “being present,” you’ll have to take a risk that could fail.
You’re afraid to create.
To commit.
To fall in love with the unbearable responsibility of being real.
So you meditate.
You process.
You purge.
You float.
And it feels sacred…
But it’s secretly sterile.
Awakening isn’t clean.
It doesn’t smell like palo santo.
It smells like burning attachments.
It smells like the ego rotting while you do laundry.
It sounds like grief and rage and delight all singing at once with no harmony.
Real awakening doesn’t make you special.
It makes you disappear.
And in that disappearance, something unspeakably alive begins to move through you.
Not to serve.
Not to help.
Not to guide.
Just to move.
No mission. No brand. No offering.
Just breath on the edge of unknowability.
But that’s terrifying, isn’t it?
Because then you can’t monetize it.
You can’t put it on your story.
You can’t tell your coach how deep your latest insight was.
It just dissolves you.
And you realize…
You weren’t trying to awaken.
You were trying to survive with style.
Maybe it’s time to admit something:
You don’t want freedom.
You want relief.
You want it to stop hurting.
You want to be done with trying.
You want to be kissed by some cosmic force that finally says:
You did enough. You are enough. You can rest now.
But here’s the real joke:
You’ve always been resting — even while striving.
You just couldn’t see it.
Because striving was never in conflict with being.
It was being, too.
So stop dividing your life into “before awakening” and “after.”
Stop measuring your worth in how little you react.
Stop pretending you’re here to transcend.
You’re here to touch.
To feel.
To break.
To howl.
To create the kind of chaos that leaves the stars curious.
So let me say it again:
You’re not awakening.
You’re just bored of yourself.
And boredom is the portal.
Let it take you.
Not into stillness.
But into fire.
Into the place where nothing can be performed anymore.
Where presence doesn’t look pretty.
Where truth doesn’t get likes.
Where the most spiritual thing you can do… is scream. Or kiss. Or paint something ugly. Or send the text.
Where the one you’ve been trying to improve finally gets left behind like a robe on the floor.
And there…
In that mess of a moment…
Something real begins.
Not for others.
Not for your future self.
Not for content.
But for now.
Just now.
And then…
You vanish.
What part of you are you still trying to keep alive under the name of “awakening”?
Read more >> The Guardian of Your Unrest
You're Not Awakening, You're Just lonely: Final Stop for Spiritual Seeker Who Can't Pretend Anymore