The thing you almost don't say is… the freedom is terrifying. the mountain doesn't judge your mistakes but you still have to live with them, or… not. and the not part is the part that keeps me up sometimes, the what ifs… the what could have beens… the space between the map and the territory isn't just a gap it's a graveyard of choices you didn't make, paths you didn't take, the rocks in my pocket are lighter than that… the silence is a choice now, not something imposed, and that… that changes everything. it’s not a prison, it’s a… launchpad? it’s a heavy kind of elevation, something earned not given, not sure why i'm even saying this here, feels selfish somehow to admit that good can be scary, that thriving feels like… showing off?