Personal Reflection:
The past has a way of branding itself into the skin, leaving marks you swear will never fade. Some of mine still itch when the weather shifts. But here’s the thing: scars don’t dictate direction, they just remind you of where you’ve been burned. Becoming isn’t about erasing what happened; it’s about refusing to let it keep the pen in its hand. Every morning, I wake up with the choice—am I replaying the same old scene, or am I writing something new?

Reflective Prompt:
What part of your story have you let define you for too long, and how might you reclaim the pen today?