In the pursuit of peace, parts of you will have to die.
As harsh as that sounds, it’s not a curse - it’s a gift. Because you get to decide which parts don’t survive the journey. Let the fear go first - the self-doubt, the anger, the guilt. Let the parts that keep you small and silent, the parts that make you question your worth, be the ones that die. Let the bitterness dissolve, let the resentment fade, and watch the heaviness slip from your shoulders like chains breaking apart.
It won’t be easy - death never is. There will be grief for the pieces of yourself you once clung to, even if they were hurting you. But don’t mistake comfort for goodness; sometimes the things we’ve carried the longest are the very things poisoning us. Let them die. Mourn them if you must, but don’t resurrect them.
Because on the other side of this shedding, this unravelling, you’ll find yourself lighter. Stronger. You’ll breathe easier. You’ll look in the mirror and see someone reborn - not because you’ve gained anything new, but because you’ve finally let go of what was never meant to stay.
This is the cost of peace: the death of the parts of you that can’t survive where you’re going. Let them go. Let them die. And when the dust settles, rise as someone unshakable - whole, fierce, and finally free.
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