On the tip of my tongue.

There's something that has been sat on the tip of my tongue since last night. It was a thought just before sleep, and it felt like a moment that might have put me on the edge of finding a way through. It's just like the most important things forgotten, and while I struggle to remember, it might come back to me later.
Ruminating today on everything that is my keeper. It all felt a little downcast through waking up, like I realized upon arrival of my eyes opening that everything is much the same, and therein lies the problem.
And now I remember, just upon writing this. The answer lies in the exorcism of everything that has haunted me, every person and place memory, and everything that I can deem not helpful to my growth. The idea of writing out to each and every detriment how that has shaped me. Then, for what persists beyond the act of letting go, there is the work. What is the hook, what keeps eluding me but is loud enough to ring loudly in my ears, like the power of a hammering heartbeat. What is that vulnerability? What does it wish to say, and why am I avoiding facing what already shares space with me, eats a meal, shares a bed, and walks alongside me while I work? It's already familiar. And I've already faced it.
There's the bravery in facing pain. Even when it's shadow becomes larger. Just as the eye lies, so does the mind. An optical illusion of an emotional quality.
There's change, and there is what is already waiting. There's the dead, and then there is the imploring, 'let it go.' Hear it for the last time, and really listen. Take back the power used in making it more than a figment, an archetype.
And never ever ever lose that light. Never forget to find something to smile about, no matter how dark things become.
I'm here. I'm a step up from yesterday, and a little more hopeful. Navigation through the ingredients of a melting pot of fiction, truth, pain and purpose, and virtues that I find with all this.
In growth, maybe this is where I'm supposed to be.