A quiet kind of freedom. The kind that comes when you stop needing to rewrite the past and start simply letting it rest. I’m not carrying the weight anymore — only the wisdom. The guilt is gone. The grief softened. And in its place… compassion. For the version of me who didn’t know. For the version of me who tried. For the version of me who now chooses differently. This isn’t regret. It’s grace. And it’s mine now.
