End of the Road
This is a cross post from my Substack.
Confidence doesn’t always arrive with a bold entrance. Sometimes, it builds quietly, step by step, as we show up for ourselves day after day. It grows when we choose to try, even when we’re unsure of the outcome. Every time you take action despite self-doubt, you reinforce the belief that you’re capable. Confidence isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about trusting that you can figure it out along the way.
The key to making things happen isn’t waiting for the perfect moment; it’s starting with what you have, where you are. Big goals can feel overwhelming when viewed all at once, but momentum builds through small, consistent action. Whether you’re working toward a personal milestone or a professional dream, progress comes from showing up — not perfectly, but persistently. Action creates clarity, and over time, those steps forward add up to something real.
You don’t need to be fearless to reach your goals, you just need to be willing. Willing to try, willing to learn, and willing to believe that you’re capable of more than you know. The road may not always be smooth, but growth rarely is. What matters most is that you keep going, keep learning, and keep believing in the version of yourself you’re becoming.Loathing wasn’t a word strong enough to describe the festering void Ky’mya held for her husband, Michael. Contempt. Repugnance. Hostility. For a man with gorgeous deep brown skin, soft round eyes, and a pretty face. Pretty wasn’t a good word, his charm was entrapment. If a Venus fly trap was a person it would be Michael. He seeped out an intoxicating, sweet aroma to attract simple flies like herself. And it wasn’t until her legs has dissolved away that she realized she was trapped; by marriage, mortgage, and two children she hadn’t wanted. Her life was bitter, a tragedy told ad nauseum.
“You are a pugnacious bastard,” she finally said to break the silence in the car. They were on the road home after one last family-fun vacation to the beach. She loved these kinds of trips. The kids were old enough to run off and make day friends, Michael would go grill and have beers with the dads, and she could sit on the edge of the water and pretend. Pretend she was on a solo trip. She wasn’t married, she was a woman who was free to enjoy the ocean. Free like the waves that lapped around her, only for her illusion to break as the kids ran back to her. Tugging her away, much like how the moon is the real force of the ocean.
“What did you call me?” He asked his statement ending with a lighthearted chuckle.
“You heard me,” she said, “You are a despicable jackass.”
“Honey,” he drew out, as if she would swoon from the way he said it. “The kids are in the back.” An uneasy silence continued. The boys had been noticeably quiet and not in their obnoxious mischievous way. Their brains were processing what had happened, they were in shock.
“Really, now you care?” Her eyes moved to the front of the car. The windshield was cracked like spiderwebs, a thick red liquid crept into the gaps creating a macabre mosaic. The worst part was the hollowed panicked eyes on her, and the frozen hands outstretched on the hood. Even posthumously this man was begging for help, for Michael to stop.
“Oh, him.” Michael said, and slammed on the brakes causing every body to lurch forward, only those inside restrained by seat belts. Their extra passenger was flung to the ground. Ky’mya felt bile in their throat from the sound, like slapping meat aggressively onto a cutting board. “See? All better,” Michael said before he floored it, and the car jumped as he ran over the body.
“I want a divorce.” She said hollowly.
“You can’t do that, you’re a witness.” He said his lips curled in an evil smile.
“Then kill me, you’ve taken everything else.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that.” His foot stayed lodged on the accelerator, ahead was a path that curved sharply. He looked at her. “What about our family?” The kids started to scream in the back, begging for their father to stop, for their mom to help them
Ky’mya wished some form of motherly instinstinct took over, and a desire to wrench the wheel away from Michael. However, she sat back in her seat and stared at him. She was at peace. Her serenity threw Michael off, her bluff was real, and it was too late to stop the car.
