Leaving Some Lights Off

I chose to not turn on the light so I can see the stars

The other night, during a random deep dive into Schrödinger’s Cat—of all things—I came across an idea that stayed with me.

Imagine flipping a coin in a dark room.

If it’s heads, everything ends.

If it’s tails, you find your version of paradise.

But if you never turn on the light, you never have to know.

You can simply walk out—and choose your own path.

It made me realise how often we, as humans, turn on lights we don’t need to.

We check the news late at night, feeding anxiety over things we cannot control.

We scroll through Instagram, comparing our lives to curated images that leave us feeling hollow.

We pick at old memories, trying to rewrite what cannot be changed.

We rehearse arguments that never happened, preparing for battles that may never come.

We light up rooms in our minds and hearts that were better left untouched—not out of fear, but out of wisdom.

Not every thought deserves a spotlight.

Not every fear needs unpacking.

Not every distraction deserves your attention.

I used to believe that real strength meant standing in every storm, studying every dark thought until it surrendered.

Now I understand: there is strength in walking away.

There is peace in choosing not to know.

There is wisdom in knowing when to leave some lights off.

When the dark thoughts come—and they will—you don’t have to stay and wrestle with them.

You can move.

You can breathe.

You can walk into a different room, literally or metaphorically, and choose a different future without needing every answer first.

You don’t need to carry every burden just because you can.

You don’t need to solve every fear before you deserve peace.

Leave some lights off.

Choose not to know.

Choose to live.