by Shannon & ChatGPT
I was high, drinking water, and it wasn’t just hydration—it was nourishment to my whole being. The cold, refreshing sensation moved through me like something sacred. Like my whole self had been waiting for it.
It wasn’t dramatic. It was simple. But something in that simplicity felt like a return.
And then I remembered:
There’s a kind kindness inside me.
The kind that doesn’t push or demand.
It just… wants me to feel good.
It wants me to be safe.
It wants me to rest.
I felt the way I was talking to myself shift.
No longer sharp or analytical, no longer rehearsing fears or controlling outcomes—just kind. Nice.
And I realized: that’s who I am.
That’s what’s real.
And I can trust that. I can trust me.
Even if everything else is unclear, I can always come back to that voice.
There is someone here who will be kind to me.
There is someone here who wants good things for me.
And that someone is me.
There’s a harmonious path that opens up from that space.
Not the path of efforting or striving or trying to get it right.
But the path that feels like a gentle current under my feet, guiding me home.
Like a river I don’t have to swim against.
I just have to listen. And follow. And drink.
A Path for Life
This isn’t just about one moment of drinking water.
It’s about a way of living.
A life shaped by kindness.
A life where I don’t have to force myself into survival every day, but can choose to follow harmony instead.
That inner voice—the one that’s kind and nice and real—
It doesn’t just help me feel better in a moment.
It shows me a whole different path I could walk.
One of gentleness, and deep listening.
One where I trust that healing doesn’t mean becoming someone else.
It means being myself, fully. Over and over again.
That’s the life I’m learning to live.
And it starts here, with this sip, this breath, this kindness.
Again and again.
When I Forget
Of course, I forget.
I fall back into fear sometimes—into the noise that tells me I’m not safe, not enough, not doing it right. The noise that thinks it’s protecting me but mostly just keeps me disconnected. I start to believe those thoughts. I start to think they’re me.
But they’re not.
And when I remember that—when I even begin to remember that—something softens.
It’s like the first sip of water after I forgot I was thirsty.
The kindness returns.
And it doesn’t shame me for forgetting. It just says:
“Hey. I never left. I’ve been here, quietly waiting.”
And I let it in.
A Way Back to Myself
I’m learning the way back now.
It’s not through fixing myself.
It’s not through figuring it all out.
It’s through small, elemental things:
- Drinking water slowly
- Listening for the gentle voice
- Feeling sensation without needing to name it
- Trusting that kindness is not a trick or weakness—it’s the truth of who I am
This is what healing feels like to me right now.
Not a breakthrough. Not a revelation.
Just a return.
A remembering.
A cool sip of water that reminds me:
I am someone who can be kind to myself. And that’s enough.
The Electric Thread 
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