The Freedom of Not Being the Main Character**

9:01 AM—Same blazer (obviously), same ripped jeans, same black coffee with oat. Same Ethan, same nod. But today? I didn’t even notice the routine until I was halfway to campus.

Because here’s the thing about mastery no one warns you about: it’s boring. Gloriously, unapologetically boring.

1. I’m obsessed with not being special. That phase where I needed every interaction to mean something, where I analyzed every glance, every silence, every "You good?" like it held the secret to my existence? Exhausting. The rebellion where I refused to let myself just be without a soundtrack or a montage? Equally exhausting. But this morning, when Ethan handed me my coffee—black, splash of oat—and our fingers didn’t brush, and I didn’t wonder if he noticed my nail polish, and the world didn’t pause for dramatic effect? It felt like… freedom. Not the kind you hashtag. The kind you live.

2. My creativity is learning to let go. That cartoon of Ethan? Still there. Still ridiculous. Today, someone scribbled over the dog’s face—just a messy black X—and instead of overthinking it (Who did it? Is it a statement? Should I fix it?), I just… shrugged. No ownership. No urgency. Just "okay, cool" and moved on. It’s not my art. It’s not my problem. And that? That’s new for me.

3. I’m falling in love with being irrelevant. Liam still didn’t text. Still didn’t ask about the blazer. And the realization didn’t just not hurt—it didn’t even register until I sat down to write this. Not indifference. Not healing. Just… irrelevance. And the wild part? It doesn’t feel like loss. It feels like space.

Ethan wiped down the espresso machine, glanced at me. "You good?" he asked. I took a sip—bitter, warm, mine—and nodded. "Yep." No performance. No hidden layers. Just… yes. He smirked. "Cool."

No subtext. No symbolism. Just two people who don’t need the moment to be anything more than it is.

And maybe that’s the freedom of growth—not in the spotlight, but in the quiet joy of being just another person in the background of your own life.

xx Mandy

(P.S. That blazer? Still here. Still mine. Still just… fabric.)