The Art of Disappearing

Step One:

Cry until your tears wash away the roles you never chose.

Let the pain burn through every label others stuck on you

labels you’ve worn so long they feel like skin.

Let them go. Let the fire clear the surface.

Step Two:

Remember the child you were before the world gave you rules.

The version of you that didn’t shrink to fit in,

the one who danced without fear of being seen.

That version still lives inside you.

Find them. Listen. Let them speak.

Step Three:

Stand alone and look at who you really are.

No filters. No performances.

See the damage done by trying to be what others expected.

Reach for those expectations like bars on a cage.

Bend them open, no matter how much it hurts.

Step Four:

Return to the place where you buried your joy.

Dig with bare hands if you must.

Find the dream you abandoned, the hope you silenced.

Open the box. Let it breathe again,

even if it doesn’t rise, even if it only weeps.

Step Five:

Be still. Be hungry. Be alone.

Not as punishment, but as purification.

Let silence teach you something noise never could.

Let your longing become prayer.

Let your thirst make you honest.

**Step Six:**

Let go of the things you kept to prove you were real—

the pictures, the messages, the memories.

Watch them turn to ash and realize:

you are not your history.

You are the space that holds what's next.

Step Seven:

When people notice your absence,

when they search for the version of you that no longer exists,

when even the earth forgets your old footsteps—

that’s when freedom begins.

Not dramatic. Not loud. Just deeply real.

Because when you stop being who you were told to be,

you become a vessel for something greater.

In losing your shape, you find your center.

In surrendering yourself, you come home.