The Ache of Forgetting

The Ache of Forgetting

I know I’m meant to do something.

But I can’t remember what.

Some mornings, I wake with a deep sorrow, a feeling so heavy it sits in my bones. It’s not sadness in the way most people know it. It’s something deeper. Something unspoken. A grief for something I can’t quite name.

It feels like I’m forgetting something.

Something important.

Something I came to this earth to do.

And yet, it stays just out of reach. A whisper I can’t quite hear, a memory that won’t fully surface, a purpose I can sense but not see.

There’s a part of me that feels like I don’t fully belong here.Like I chose to come but don’t remember why.Like there is a job I was meant to complete, and the thought of leaving this world without fulfilling it makes my chest ache.

I sit in my bed with this feeling, and the weight of it makes my body heavy.

The sadness isn’t just about not knowing.It’s about the fear that I might never remember.

That I will spend my life searching for something I cannot name.That I will feel this emptiness forever.

I wonder, if I sit still enough, if I get quiet, will it come to me?

Why won’t it reveal itself?

Why won’t my purpose make itself known so that I can feel whole?

And what if I never find it?

What if I leave this world still searching?

I close my eyes and listen.I beg for an answer, a sign, a single thread to pull me closer.

But all I feel is the ache.

And maybe, maybe that ache is the calling itself.

Maybe the longing is the map.Maybe the emptiness isn’t a void but a compass.Maybe I’m not lost.

Maybe I’m just becoming.