I thought I was fully mended, fully recovered, all better. Turns out it’s not true.
Just a little reminder, and I can feel the cracks, the pieces falling apart.
Was the glue not strong enough? Or did it just take longer to dry…
the bones are still growing back, the scab is still fresh and the wound is still taking time to fully heal.
Yet, I’ve already started my journey again. A new quest. This time it’s even a bigger challenge than the last, a higher mountain to climb.
Now my face feels wet. I can taste the saltiness on my lips, but I keep climbing. I don’t know what I will find at the top, I don’t know if I will face disappointment. But the fear won’t stop me. It’s the process, the experience, the things I learn from the path that keeps me going.
But all this doesn’t mean I don’t still feel a little nostalgic now and then. I tried my best, I gave it my all the last time. I’m proud of it, I have no regrets.