🎵 “Where do we go now?”
— Sweet Child o’ Mine, Guns N’ Roses

That lyric came into my head today, and it honestly fits.
Because I don’t quite know where I’m going next.
But for once, I’m not afraid of that question.

It’s not a panic—it’s a pulse.
A sign that I’m in transition.
And this time, I’m grounded in something real:
Me.

Sure, in theory things could get worse.
But realistically?
I know myself better now.
I can feel my emotions instead of suppressing them.
I can sit with them instead of hiding.
And I’ve seen what happens when I live honestly—I attract others who live the same.

That’s more than enough to build on.

I think I sometimes forget how many people do care.
People who show up, who hold space.
Like my manager from Bernardo’s Children’s Charity.
She’s been a quiet force of good in my life.
Supportive in a way I didn’t realise I needed.
Not performative—just real.

And I think that’s what I was looking for all along.
Not just to help others, but to heal something in myself.
And that’s not selfish.

That’s what real giving looks like—when healing yourself helps others heal too.

That last line landed deeply in my chest.
It came from somewhere deeper than logic.
That’s when I know it’s the truth.

And maybe for the first time, I don’t feel alone.

Because I’ve got me now.
And yeah, that might sound cliché—but it’s honest.

I don’t fear being alone.
I fear being around people who make me feel alone.

People like Will.
Connor.
The guy in Chile. The guy in Australia.
My mum. My sister.
Some neighbours.
Different names, same pattern:

They lacked the emotional depth I need to feel seen.

And when I’m with people like that, I start questioning myself.
Am I too much? Am I not enough?

But I know now—that’s just fear.
False evidence appearing real.

So I’m making space.
Clearing out what was never a match, so what is can finally arrive.
I’m letting go of the echo chambers of my past.

And I’m opening to something better.
Not louder. Not flashier. Just… deeper.
Kinder. Truer. Present.

Because I deserve that.
And I’m no longer settling for anything less.

So where do I go now?

I don’t know.
But I do know this:

I’m not going back.