I stood in the storm
and let it take me.
Not because I was weak—
but because I was ready.

The old me clung
to borrowed light,
to soft apologies
and half-lived nights.

But pain has a ledger,
and I signed my name.
Every bruise,
every silence,
every flame—
I earned them.
I needed them.
I burned through them.

You said I didn’t deserve it.
But I did.
I deserved the breaking,
the reckoning,
the raw truth of it.

Now I rise
not clean,
but clear.
Not new,
but real.

My karma debt—
paid in full.
And the sky?
It’s mine again.