ππππ’π¨ ππ¨π§πππ«π’π§π : πβπ¦ ππ¨π πππππ’π§π ππ§π―π¨π₯π―ππ
My coffee this morning is not as satisfying as usual.
Maybe itβs the weather and the incoming rain; maybe itβs the midnight text that still lingers in my mind.
Or maybe itβs the slow surfacing of thoughts Iβve wrestled with for months.
πβπ¦ π§π¨π π ππππ’π§π π’π§π―π¨π₯π―ππ.
I know the data theyβre using is wrong; but Iβm not getting involved.
I know the truth about the interaction; but Iβm not getting involved.
I have a solution; but Iβm not getting involved.
I was in a conversation where I couldβve told the truth; but Iβm not getting involved.
Weβre supposed to be a βteamβ; but Iβm not getting involved.
Weβve been friends for over twenty years; but Iβm not getting involved.
Where do we draw the line in the sand?
When do we speak up: for truth, for integrity, for our relationships?
Have we become so focused on self-preservation that weβve forgotten how to get involved when it matters most?
This morning, the coffee just tastes⦠muted.
Maybe because my conscience isnβt.