Relearning the Shape of Yourself

I no longer fit the outline of who I used to be. The edges have shifted, some softened, some sharpened, some lost altogether, as if time has carved me into something unrecognizable but still mine. I reach for old habits, old names, old certainties, but they do not sit right in my hands. The echoes of who I was do not match the weight of who I am becoming. So I start again. I trace the new lines, hesitant at first, learning the angles of my own existence, the way I bend, the way I refuse to break in the same places twice. I do not know if this version of me is stronger, but I know it is real. I know it holds. I know it is still standing. And maybe that is enough.