Drop "can't" and "try."

If words create worlds, then some words are quietly building smaller ones. Two of the biggest culprits are so common we don't even hear ourselves say them: "can't" and "try."

"Can't" ends the conversation

"Can't" feels like a fact, but most of the time it's a decision wearing a fact's clothing. "I can't do this" usually means "I don't know how yet," or "I'm scared to," or "I don't want to right now." Those are all honest — and all of them leave the door open. "Can't" slams it shut and walks away.

You don't have to pretend everything is possible in this exact second. You just have to stop announcing that it's impossible forever. Swap the permanent for the temporary and watch your own mind stay in the room:

"Try" plans for the miss

"Try" is sneakier, because it sounds positive. "I'll try" feels like effort. But listen closely and you'll hear the escape hatch built into it. "I'll try to call you" is already half an apology for not calling. "Try" gives you permission to fall short before you've even started.

Watch the difference: "I'll try to get in shape" versus "I'm going to get in shape." One is hoping. The other is deciding.

Decide instead. "I will" doesn't guarantee the outcome — life still gets a vote — but it points your whole self in one direction instead of leaving a back door open.

How to actually do this

You won't catch every one, and that's fine — this is a muscle, not a switch. For one week, just notice. Every time "can't" or "try" slips out, don't scold yourself; just say the better version right after it. Out loud if you can. "I can't — actually, I haven't yet." The correction trains the muscle faster than the rule does.

It feels small. It is small. That's the point. Infinite results don't come from one giant change — they come from a tiny change you make a thousand times. Two steps forward, one step back, and somehow you end up with an infinite leap forward.