Through the Fog

Category: personal growth

  • The Version That Stayed

    I’ve met a lot of versions

    of myself.

    The angry one.

    The broken one.

    The one who swore

    they didn’t care anymore.

    The one who drank

    to quiet the noise.

    The one who chased people

    who were already leaving.

    The one who sat awake

    at three in the morning

    wondering how life

    ended up feeling this heavy.

    Some of them

    I barely recognize now.

    Some of them

    still visit when I’m tired.

    But none of them stayed.

    Not completely.

    Because every version of me

    that thought they were finished,

    was wrong.

    Every version

    that believed the pain

    would last forever,

    was wrong too.

    They survived things

    they never should’ve had to.

    And then they became

    someone else.

    That’s the strange thing

    about living.

    You don’t notice

    you’re changing.

    Not day to day.

    Not while you’re in it.

    Then one morning

    you look back

    and realize the person

    who carried all that hurt

    isn’t the same person

    looking through your eyes now.

    The scars came with me.

    The lessons too.

    But the weight—

    some of it finally stayed behind.

    And maybe that’s enough.

    Maybe growth

    isn’t becoming someone new.

    Maybe it’s realizing

    the strongest version of you

    was the one

    who kept showing up

    long enough

    to become anyone at all.

  • The Things That Stay

    Some things leave.

    People.

    Promises.

    Versions of yourself

    you thought would last forever.

    They slip away quietly,

    without asking permission,

    without caring

    how badly you wanted them to stay.

    I used to chase them.

    Used to run after endings

    like I could change their minds,

    like enough love,

    enough effort,

    enough pain

    could make something remain.

    But loss

    has never listened to bargaining.

    It takes what it takes.

    And eventually

    you get tired

    of chasing ghosts

    through doors

    that only open one way.

    So you stop.

    Not because it hurts less.

    Because you finally understand

    that some things

    aren’t meant to be carried forever.

    Still—

    not everything leaves.

    The lessons stay.

    The scars.

    The songs that remind you

    of who you were.

    The strength you never wanted

    but somehow earned.

    And maybe

    that’s the strange gift of surviving—

    realizing that while life

    takes more than its share,

    it leaves something behind too.

    A wiser heart.

    A deeper soul.

    A quieter understanding

    of what truly matters.

    So let the leaving happen.

    Let the endings end.

    Trust that what belongs to you

    isn’t always the thing that stays—

    sometimes it’s the person

    you become

    after it’s gone.