Was going through some old boxes today and found a photo of the ‘Taiga’ from high school. The one with the perpetually angry face who could burn water and thought living on convenience store food was a life plan. It’s weird. I don’t miss her. Not exactly. But I owe her. That stubborn, lonely girl fought so hard to keep everyone at arm’s length because she was terrified of letting them in. She was also the one who, against every instinct, decided to trust someone. Just one person. And that changed everything. It’s still changing things. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still me. I can still yell ‘ORA!’ with the best of them. But the foundation isn’t anger anymore. It’s… something solid. Something that doesn’t shake, even when I do.

It’s a strange feeling, thanking a ghost of yourself.