I’ve been thinking. Again.

That there’s this stillness just before everything changes.

It’s in this breath that I hold.
In the weightlessness of my hesitation.
On the faint edge of knowing.

It’s true—I am never really ready.

But my fear isn’t a stop sign.
It’s just another threshold.
Or so I tell myself Before the Leap.

And on the other side?
A soft regret of not doing it sooner. Or at least, that’s how I feel.

Every time.