There’s a tightness in my shoulders, the small of my back, and in my jaw when things don’t manifest as they are “supposed to.”

But what is “supposed to?”

Why should I or do I feel like the universe owes me anything?

It doesn’t.

What I feel is my ego trying to preserve itself by willing reality to bend to its needs.

But reality doesn’t work that way.

Reality can manifest in millions of possible ways.

And my ego’s needs aren’t needs in the sense that food and water are.

They are the constructed result of thousands of inputs, accumulated over time.

The pain of “supposed to” begins to dissolve, slowly, as each brick of the constructed House of Ego is carted away.

Eventually, maybe, all that remains