Run To You

The desert doesn’t panic.

It stays wide.
It stays silent.
It stays honest.

The world, on the other hand, collapses loudly.

Expectations break.
Plans shift.
People disappear when you thought they would stay.

And in those moments, we run.

We run to advice.
We run to validation.
We run to someone who can fix what feels broken.

But the highest survival skill isn’t running away.

It’s running inward.

Look at the image.

The car is there.
The landscape is massive.
The road behind me is clear.

But I step away from the vehicle.

Alone.
Grounded.
Present.

Sometimes the help you’re waiting for is clarity about yourself.

When everything shakes, the first question isn’t,
“Who will save me?”

It’s,
“How do I see myself right now?”

Do you see someone capable?
Or someone defeated?

Do you see someone learning?
Or someone failing?

The collapse outside is rarely the real danger.

The real danger is losing trust in your own footing.

Running to yourself means recalibrating your narrative.
It means remembering your strength before asking for rescue.
It means pausing long enough to say,
“I am still here. I can still move.”

The desert doesn’t offer shortcuts.

But it offers perspective.

And sometimes, the most powerful direction you can take
is toward yourself.