I used to hold truth like a weapon — sharp, clean, final.
But now it moves.
Not like a lie, not like denial — but like a tide that’s been waiting for me to grow strong enough to swim deeper.
What I swore was solid, now trembles in my hands. Not because it was false — but because I’ve changed.
And now I fear not the truth itself, but the way it keeps becoming.
This one came out of nowhere, like most real things do. I used to think truth was something you held — solid, fixed. Now I know it’s something that moves with you, or it breaks you. I wrote this for anyone who’s ever looked at their past, their love, or their own reflection… and felt it tremble, not because it was false, but because they’ve changed.