Avoidance doesn’t erase weight.
It just changes hands.

When a thing is postponed long enough, it doesn’t disappear — it migrates.
Into my space.
Into my body.
Into whatever part of me still functions when someone else steps back.

By the time I’m reacting, the decision already happened.
Silence already chose.
Delay already spent the cost.

I’m not exhausted from crisis.
I’m exhausted from being where other people’s unmade choices land.

The problem isn’t that things are heavy.
It’s that they keep being redirected.