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And Still, I Go I don’t have the right words for this. Goodbyes always feel too small, too final, when what I mean is thank you for letting me belong. I carry the weight of this place in my chest, not as a burden, but like a soft hum that will echo long after I leave. There were days I thought I would break here. There were days I did. But you held the pieces without asking for anything but my trying. And I tried. Even when the light felt too far, even when my voice barely reached my own ears, I stayed. I grew. Now I go—not empty, not untouched— but changed in ways you may never see and I will never forget. I won’t say I’ll be the same. I won’t pretend this isn’t hard. But there is something waiting, and I owe it to myself to open the door. So I leave with love. With hope. With everything you helped me find when I thought I had nothing left. Goodbye— not as an ending, but as a hand, gently letting go.