A weekly light — poetry, stories, and reflections from the strange in-between.

The Measure of Other People

I keep holding myself up
to the silhouettes of other lives—
all those polished moments,
those curated triumphs,
those strangers who look like they’ve unlocked
some secret map I never found.

It’s ridiculous, I know.
But the mind is a magician
that only performs vanishing acts:
my worth disappears first,
my confidence next,
until all that’s left is the ache
of not being enough
in a world built to make you believe
you’re always behind.

I try to remember
none of us post our cracked pieces.
No one frames the nights
they stared at their own reflection
and felt like a placeholder.
No one celebrates the days
they barely walked through.

I forget that the people I envy
are doing the same quiet math—
wondering who outshines them,
who’s doing better,
who’s pretending with more grace.

Maybe the truth is simple:
there is no “other life” to outrun.
There’s only this one—
messy, uneven, stitched together
with effort that never makes the highlight reel.

And maybe that’s enough.
Maybe I’m enough,
even on the days I don’t believe it.

🕯️ Lantern Note:
Comparison is a slow poison—
tastes harmless, kills quietly.
Most days we sip it without thinking.

I’m trying not to.
I’m trying to keep my eyes on my own small victories,
my own uneven climb.
But some nights the pull is strong,
and it feels like everyone else is sprinting
while I’m stitching myself together just to keep pace.

If you feel that too, shake it off with me.
We’re building lives, not scoreboards.
And nothing worth keeping comes from measuring ourselves
against someone else’s mirror.

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