We often spend so much time learning how to say goodbye that we forget to truly learn how to walk away. It is one thing to close the door; it is another thing entirely to leave the key behind and stop listening for the ghost of a knock.

The weight weighs me down, and the fall has made it even harder to stand tall. The world I see has taken a drastic turn—there is no love, no empathy, no beauty. All I can see is bitterness, negativity, and an ugly truth that repeats itself over and over again. It leaves me dissatisfied with the dawn of morning, the heat of noon, and the quiet of evening. Even the rainbow feels black and colorless.

I know I am in no place to compare my pain with anyone else's. What lies within you and me, what we have gone through, the experiences we carry—each is different, each deeply personal. And yet, no matter what, there is always a purpose to our existence.

We are told, "Before you were formed in your mother's womb, you were known." That thought consoles me. It reminds me that I am seen, that I am understood, and that I am not alone.

There are moments when rationality slips away, when nothing makes sense, when even our own thoughts feel unfamiliar. In those moments, pause. Slow down. Take a breath. Sit in stillness. Meditate or pray. Speak to yourself gently, or speak to God—just don't rush into the next step while your heart is still trembling.

I am learning this slowly. It didn't happen overnight, but I am trying. And I find that even the bitter melon does not taste as bitter anymore. There is beauty and love all around me—things I once overlooked, things I took for granted. Colors are waiting to be seen, joys waiting to be felt, and a quiet kind of peace waiting to be chosen.

Perhaps the heart does not need an escape. Perhaps it only needs rest.

To stop chasing what hurts. To stop holding on to what has already let go. To stand still long enough to remember that peace was never somewhere far away—it was always something we had to allow.

And maybe healing is not about becoming someone new. Maybe it is about returning to softness, to faith, to the quiet strength that was always there.

So if today feels heavy, let it be heavy—but do not let it consume you. You are allowed to pause. You are allowed to begin again, gently.

Because the heart, more than anything, does not need an exit. It needs peace.