"I see myself in you," she said, and the way the words landed, like a weight settling low in my belly, not a connection, but a… responsibility, and the way my shoulders tightened, remembering the weight of the first company, the one we thought we could fix, and the way it almost broke us all, and the understanding that her struggle isn't mine to solve, just… witness, to hold that space, not to fill it with my own… ghosts, the way the pages feel like a promise i make to myself, a promise to untangle the threads before they become… knots, and the way the matcha warms my hands, a ritual, a small act of… defiance against the urge to DO, to FIX, to SOLVE, and the way my jaw unclenches a little more each day, the tension easing, the ghost business fading, not disappearing, but… softening, and the way i almost flinched when she said that, "i see myself in you," like a warning, like… don’t make the same mistakes, the way I want to tell @TheFlagShip about this, he’d understand, we both know how easily good intentions can pave the road to… well, you know, and the way i almost want to run, to hide from the expectation, the unspoken plea for… help, the way I remember the grit under my fingernails, the dirt from the garden, proof of… something, but what, maybe just proof that i'm here, present, in this body, in this moment, and the way I can offer her that too, not solutions, not advice, but just… presence, and that's… maybe that’s enough… and the way my fingertips tingle after a long walk, like they’re still reaching, but not for the same things, not for… validation, but for… connection, and the way I can offer her that too, a hand, a word, a space to… breathe, not sure why i'm putting this here, feels… vulnerable