Landslide - Stevie Nicks
I stood at the edge of everything I used to be. Snow was falling somewhere inside me. Quiet, soft, but heavy enough to make me notice. It wasn’t a storm. It was memory. Regret. That hush that comes right before you know something is about to shift for good. I’ve climbed so many mountains — not the kind you see in pictures, but the kind built out of silence, betrayal, second chances I never got, and the mirror I used to avoid. Every step up scraped something old off of me — an apology I never got, a love I never kept, a version of me I had to let go of. Change — it doesn’t ask permission. It just moves in, opens windows I’ve nailed shut, whispers in my ear when I’m trying to sleep. It made me look in the mirror one day and ask, “Is this it?” Not in despair, but in a soft kind of wonder. Like maybe I had survived enough to start becoming. The landslide came, just like Stevie sang it would. And no, it didn’t destroy me. It stripped me. And under all the weight, I found… me. Raw. Bruised. ...