Observation
There’s a moment—just before letting go—where you almost convince yourself to hold on. Like if you could stretch time, suspend yourself in the inhale before the exhale, you’d never have to choose between what was and what’s next.
But transformation isn’t gentle. It’s a clawing, a tearing, a violent negotiation between the version of you that’s ready to move forward and the ghosts of all the ones that aren’t. And maybe the hardest part isn’t becoming—it’s grieving every self you had to leave behind.