I still revisit the version of me who thought she had to settle downward

Dear Delyara, That version of me still makes me ache. Not because she was weak. Because she was scared and adapted accordingly. She learned to call less “enough,” to rename confusion into something more survivable, to reduce desire so disappointment wouldn’t have so far to fall. I know I owe her compassion. I do. But some nights sorrow arrives first. Sorrow that she thought downward was safety. Sorrow that she lived there for so long. That sorrow still has a pulse.