Letting go

There’s a peculiar kind of pain in clinging to something that’s already slipping through your fingers—a dream, a purpose, a fragment of the world you thought you could cradle in your hands. You chase it with every ounce of your being, heart hammering, soul stretched thin, because it feels like your entire existence hinges on keeping it alive. You tell yourself it matters, that if you just hold on tighter, work harder, you can save it. But then the truth slips in, soft and relentless: it doesn’t need saving. It’s on its own path, and you’re left standing in the dust, gasping, with nothing but the echo of your own effort.

That journey cracks you open. It breaks your heart in ways you didn’t know a heart could break. You pour everything into this thing—time, hope, sleepless nights—believing it’s the point of it all, the reason you’re here. And when it slips away, when you see it doesn’t need you, the world tilts. Life feels hollow, like someone turned down the volume on everything that used to matter. The days you spent, the dreams you built, they crumble into questions: What was it for? Why did I fight so hard? The silence that follows is deafening, and for a while, it’s hard to see any light at all.

Somewhere in that ache, a humbling truth settles in: I’m a nobody. Not in a cruel way, but in a vast, cosmic one. I’m not the center of this story, not the hero who was meant to save it. I was just there, a fleeting part of something bigger, something that didn’t need me to hold it together. That realization stings, but it’s also strangely freeing. The weight of being important falls away, and you’re left with just… you. A person, small and ordinary, who tried, who cared, who showed up.

And yet, something’s changing. I can feel it, like a tide shifting inside me. I’m not the same as I used to be. The person who started this journey, so sure, so driven, feels like a stranger now. I’m softer in some ways, harder in others. I notice things I didn’t before—the way sunlight hits a window, the kindness in a stranger’s voice, the quiet strength of people who keep going despite their own broken hearts. I’m not sure what it means, this change. It’s unsettling, like standing on ground that’s still settling. But no matter what’s happened, or what’s coming next, I refuse to let it change who I am at my core. I want to stay true to the person I’ve always been—someone who tries, who cares, who fights to be on the right side of things. That’s non-negotiable, no matter how the world shifts around me.

Not everyone gets dealt the same cards. Some start with aces, others with twos, but what’s beautiful is watching people play their hands and still reach for something bigger. It’s inspiring—humbling, even—to see how we all chase our dreams, no matter where we start. I’ve got big dreams too. I want to be great, not just good, but great at everything I do. I want to contribute, to leave something behind that matters, even if it’s just a ripple in the vastness of it all. I’ll try my best, always, because that’s who I am. That’s the part of me that won’t bend, no matter how many times the world tells me to let go.

Here we are, though. Still moving forward, still waking to new days. The heart doesn’t heal all at once—it stitches itself back together slowly, through moments of laughter, through tears, through the simple act of breathing. Being human isn’t about being the one who saves the day or carves their name into the stars. It’s about carrying the weight of your own story, the losses and the loves, and still finding reasons to keep going. It’s about seeing the world for what it is—messy, beautiful, indifferent—and choosing to stay in it, to be a part of it, to strive for greatness even when the odds feel stacked.

There are good people out there, so many of them, building, creating, loving, stumbling, and getting back up. They remind me that this journey, as painful as it’s been, isn’t the end. It’s just a chapter. The world keeps spinning, vast and radiant, and I’m still here, changed but alive, a nobody who was there, who felt it all, and who’s learning, day by day, what it means to be human. I’ll keep trying, keep dreaming, keep showing up—not because I’m important, but because I’m here, and that’s enough.