The Snag Child

Metaphorical Narrative

On the floor lies a small child, fists pounding, legs kicking. The room echoes with frustration — a storm over something denied. Every attempt feels snagged, like invisible threads catching her arms and legs.

She screams louder, convinced the world itself is against her. But no one is holding her down. The ropes are made of air.

Years later, the body still remembers that floor. A grown figure bends under the same invisible net — everyday choices feeling tangled, blocked, impossible. But when they pause, when they look closely, the cords dissolve. Nothing holds them.

Core Insight

Frustration that feels cosmic is often a replay of childhood stuckness. Ego hijacks that imprint and paints snags everywhere. The wall isn’t real — it’s an old echo.

Saturday Experiment

1. When “everything blocks me” shows up, name it: Snag Child has appeared.
2. Ask: Is this a real wall, or phantom rope?
3. Move one step forward anyway.

Sunday Reflection

In third person, write about two scenes:

• The child kicking on the floor.
• The adult standing, ropes gone.

How does the story shift when phantom snags dissolve?