the grit under my fingernails after gardening, that specific earth smell that gets stuck in your nose for hours, it used to make me recoil, the way i'd scrub and scrub until my skin was raw…now it’s… proof, i guess, proof that i’m not just thinking about building something, but actually…doing it, and the way the roots resist, the way they cling to the soil like they’re daring you to take what’s theirs, that’s how i used to be, holding onto the old company like it was the only thing that mattered, even when it was… rotting, but now… now the dirt under my nails is just… dirt, and the new growth, it doesn’t care about the past, it just… reaches, and that’s… maybe that’s enough, just to reach, even if it’s just an inch at a time, even if it’s just…forward, it’s enough.