The Need to Dig

I dig.
I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s confirmation bias.
Maybe it’s the need to prove what I think.
Maybe it’s the hunger for truth—because if I don’t find it, who will?

But it’s exhausting.
This constant need to understand, to question, to uncover.
Why can’t I let things go?
Why does my mind loop and loop, chasing clarity like it’s oxygen?

I know being close-minded can cost us.
It can blind us to opportunity.
It can lead to decisions made in echo chambers.
So I try to research opposing ideas.
To stay open.
To stay curious.

But I’m overwhelmed.
Everyone wants something from me.
And I feel like I have nothing left to give.

My body is tired.
My home is crumbling.
I heard the word “literally” so many times yesterday it felt like a glitch in the matrix.
Too much.
Too loud.
Too everything.

I don’t want to cause problems.
I don’t want to make things harder for anyone.
But when I move quickly, I set expectations I might not be able to meet again.
And that scares me.

I want to be dependable.
But I also want to be human.

So I dig.
Not to destroy.
Not to expose.
But to understand.

And maybe that’s okay.
Maybe the digging is part of the healing.
Even if it leaves me raw.