What’s Becoming of Me Is Inevitable

“What’s becoming of me is inevitable;

If I grow even a little wiser, I’ll be incurable.”

Lately, I’ve been feeling it, that quiet tug from within.

It doesn’t shout or demand attention; it just moves.
A slow, steady drift toward something I can’t quite name, like gravity pulling me into a new orbit.

And maybe that’s exactly what it is.
Because change, like gravity, is not a choice.
It’s a law of nature.
It’s the universe’s way of saying, keep moving, keep evolving, keep becoming.

When you pause long enough to look up at the night sky, it humbles you.
Stars that died millions of years ago are still shining. Galaxies expand without asking for permission. The universe doesn’t resist its own becoming but it simply unfolds.

Maybe our lives aren’t so different.
We expand quietly too in heartbreaks, in lessons, in the small, invisible ways we learn to let go.

That’s where the line comes alive for me:

If I grow even a little wiser, I’ll be incurable.

Because wisdom has a cost.
Once you begin to understand truly understand and you lose the luxury of unknowing. You can’t go back to being naïve. You can’t see the world the same way again.

You start noticing how temporary everything is.
You stop chasing noise.
You crave silence, sincerity, and something real.

And yes, it makes you incurable.
Because no comfort of the past can soothe you once you’ve tasted truth.
No illusion can replace clarity.

The universe is vast, infinite, and endlessly expanding and maybe, so are we.
Every time we learn, every time we forgive, every time we stop fighting what’s already gone but we stretch a little further into our own vastness.

Growth doesn’t make us perfect; it just makes us aware.
And awareness is irreversible.

So if what’s becoming of me feels inevitable so I shall take it.
If wisdom makes me incurable then I’ll embrace it.
Because maybe “incurable” isn’t about being broken.
Maybe it’s about being awake.

We’re all tiny universes, expanding quietly. One realisation at a time.