"you've changed," someone said once, and looking at that face from before, yeah, i guess i did. it's not a sadness, not really, more like recognizing a face in a crowd that used to mean the world but doesn't anymore, just a flicker in the periphery, that deep hum in the gut not of dread but just... presence. there's a relief in that letting go, but also a weird sense of duty to that past self, like remembering her fight so this me could finally stand here, just a little looser, maybe even less guarded.