They don’t tell you about this part.
The part where you finally get what you prayed for, what you sacrificed so much for, only to realize that it doesn’t feel as complete as you imagined.
I climbed. I pushed. I gave up things I loved, traded comfort for struggle, and kept moving even when every part of me wanted to stop. I worked harder than I ever thought I could.
There were moments when I wanted to quit, when I questioned if this path was even worth it. But I had people behind me, cheering me on, telling me I could do it even when I wasn’t sure myself. They reminded me why I started, why I had to keep going. And so I did.
And for what? For this. This moment at the top.
But no one warned me how lonely it would feel.
Not because I’m the only one who made it, but because this wasn’t the mountain we all wanted to climb together. Somewhere along the way, our paths split. They found dreams that weren’t mine, and I kept chasing the one that was calling me the loudest.
I don’t regret it. How could I? I fought too hard to get here. But standing here now, I feel the ache of everything I left behind—the late-night talks, the shared fears, the promise that we’d figure it out together.
And yet, I know this much is true: they are still behind me.
Not in the way I once imagined, not walking this same path with me, but watching from a distance. They’re cheering for me from their own mountains, just as I cheer for them from mine.
I am not alone. They are still part of my journey, even if our roads no longer cross.
And when I fall—because I know I will—they will still be there. Maybe not to climb with me, but to catch me, to remind me why I started, to tell me to keep going.
So I will.
Until we meet again.
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