# Overrides

## The Quiet Defaults

Life hands us defaults, like well-worn paths in a garden we didn't plant. We wake to the same alarm, reach for the familiar coffee, nod through conversations that echo yesterday. These are not chains, but gentle drifts—habits shaped by comfort, fatigue, or forgotten choices. On a crisp morning in early 2026, I watched snow dust the city, realizing how easily we follow these unseen scripts, day after day.

## The Simple Act of Rewriting

An override begins small, like pressing a key to change a line. It's choosing tea over coffee when your body whispers for rest. Walking instead of scrolling, saying "no" to protect your evening. No grand rebellion, just a quiet decision to edit the draft. These moments stack, turning autopilot into intention. I've overridden doubt by starting a letter I once postponed, feeling the weight lift as words flowed true.

## A Life Marked Up

Over time, overrides reshape us. The garden paths straighten, blooms we chose appear. It's not perfection, but presence—living as author, not echo.

- A deep breath over frustration.
- A call to a distant friend.
- Rest when the world demands more.

In this editing, we find freedom.

*One override at a time, we write our truest story.*