There's a version of me on the other side of every distraction I've ever chosen. Every loop of overthinking, every comfortable pattern I mistook for progress, every time I answered the noise instead of the silence. The dark isn't the enemy, it's everything I already know. Safe. Mapped. Familiar. But that strip of blue has always been there, waiting for me to stop looking sideways and walk forward. This is the fracture I've been afraid of, the one that doesn't lead back. Not a collapse. An opening. I've spent long enough being the observer. Cataloguing the chaos, studying the edges, telling myself that understanding it was the same as moving through it. It isn't. The sky doesn't care if I'm ready. The threshold doesn't negotiate.