We grow up thinking someone will come… someone will fix it… someone will save us… but somewhere along the way… it becomes this:
your side… my side… their side… his side… her side…

lines appear… not on maps… but in living rooms… across dinner tables… inside conversations that used to feel safe… one person chooses red… another chooses blue… and suddenly… the world is cut in half…

families stop speaking… neighbors turn into strangers… cars become weapons of impatience… noise replaces listening… we argue over everything… over space… over belief… over things that do not remember us… a roll of toilet paper becomes a statement…

a TV screen becomes a battlefield… a word becomes a wound… and the wound becomes a reason… we build small private hells… quietly… carefully… then point across the fire… and say… this is your fault…
everywhere… voices rise… demanding allegiance… pick a side…

pick a side… pick a side… and somewhere in all of it… kindness is still there… not gone… just waiting… just outside… uninvited…

imagine… if we met each other… without the need to divide… the way we reach for something that trusts us… without question… without condition… no sides… no lines… just presence… and maybe then… the world would not feel so split… maybe… it would feel… like something we could share…