The Rebel in My Blueprint

There’s a kind of ache that lives inside contentment.
A whisper that says: “this isn’t all.”

Have you ever felt misplaced—
as if you were meant to be somewhere else,
doing something else?

I wonder if I turned wrong.
One turn, then another,
until I arrived here.

It’s not unhappiness.
I am grateful.
I am content.
But contentment is not satisfaction.

There is a pulse inside me,
a quiet ache,
a voice that insists:
there should be more of me than this.

I imagine myself the architect—before I was born.
Blueprints laid with precision.
A masterpiece of existence.

But I rebelled.
I altered the plan, shifted details,
convinced I knew better.

And so I stand here,
searching for the place
I should have reached long ago.

It’s not dismissal.
I honor what I’ve built.
I show up every day.
Still—there is a pull,
a longing,
an unsettled sense
that I was meant to be more.

This doesn’t mean I am small.
It means I am listening—
to the part of me that longs for expansion,
for alignment,
for the version of me not yet lived.

Maybe the path isn’t wrong.
Maybe it is me—
my growth, my choices,
the ways I’ve hardened.

Life has shaped me into someone I don’t always know.
The mirror unsettles me.
The reflection feels wrong.

And yet—
I have done my best.
Always.

“You haven’t failed,” she whispers.
“You’ve paused. And even pauses hold power.”

Perhaps the ache is not flaw.
Perhaps it is compass.

And maybe—just maybe—
I am already
on the way back to myself.

@notesformysoulmate

This work is protected—not to gatekeep, but to honor the rebellion, the blueprint, and the return it holds.
Because when longing is named in silence, writing becomes compass—and compass becomes home.
© 2025 Notesformysoulmate. All rights reserved.

If my words hold something tender you wish to explore—
here’s how you can work with me .