To the things I cling to blur out the truth because I begin to believe that I will lose myself if I lose them,
To the things I cling and to ask me in full honesty, why do I worship what can leave me without any form of warning?,
I tend to answer softly to things I cling to, but I can care deeply without letting my worth be tied to what remains…
To the images I cherish compel me to relive the past, imploring the world to remain unchanged amidst the relentless passage of time,
To the images I protect sometimes whisper, how long will you force yesterday to fit inside today’s own truth?,
Images I protect remind me gently, now I can honor what was without forcing it to remain…
Comforts I outgrew feel safe only because they are familiar, not because they are right,
Comforts I outgrew ask me tenderly, why do you shrink yourself to fit into old versions of your life?,
And comforts I outgrew assure me, I can outgrow gently without abandoning who I used to be…
In moments of stress, the comforts I outgrew cling hardest when my fear is loudest, when I forget that change has held me before,
Comforts I outgrew question me softly, are you staying because it’s good—or because it’s already known?,
And comforts I outgrew remind me, I can choose the unknown even when my voice shakes…
• What I keep is not always what keeps me safe
• Clinging is a quiet exhaustion
• The past cannot fit in my set of new skin
• Growth demands a gentle release
• I can loosen without losing
