17/10/2025
Cereb-Art:
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐ซ ๐ ๐๐ญ๐จ๐ฉ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ง๐ง๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐๐ก๐๐ง๐ ๐
Change has always known where to find us. It lingers in the spaces between what is and what was: quiet, patient, waiting for the right moment to unfold. It doesnโt knock. It doesnโt ask permission. It simply arrives, rearranging everything familiar until the world feels a little offbeat, a little too new, a little too real.
For the longest time, I mistook stability for peace. I thought stillness meant safety, that if I could keep things untouched, unmoved, I could somehow outsmart time. But stability was only a beautiful disguise, a place to hide from the inevitable. Because no matter how tightly we hold on, change will always find its way through the cracks we pretend donโt exist.
Itโs strange, isnโt it? How something so certain can still feel like betrayal. Change doesnโt always come gently. It doesnโt whisper; sometimes it roars. It takes what youโve known and hands your uncertainty in return. And yet, somewhere within that discomfort, something stirs. Growth, quiet and deliberate, begins in the ruins of what used to be.
For years, I treated change like an unwelcome guest, something to resist, something to endure. I built walls high enough to keep it out, only to realize that it wasnโt trying to invade. I was trying to teach. Change isnโt cruel; itโs just honest. It takes away, yes, but only to make space.
This was the year I stopped running. The year I let the ground shift without fighting it. The year I learned that sometimes, survival looks like surrenderโnot in defeat, but in trust.
Trust that not every ending is a loss, and not every beginning needs to make sense right away.
Change still frightens me, but no longer in the same way. It doesnโt feel like chaos anymore; it feels like rhythm. Like a tide that pulls and releases, reminding me that movement is a sign of life. The ache that once felt unbearable now feels almost sacred, a mark of having lived, of having cared, of having dared to start again.
And perhaps thatโs all change really asks of us: to keep beginning, even when it hurts. To rebuild, even when weโre unsure what shape the pieces will take.
Because one day, the fear softens. The resistance quiets. And what once felt like breaking starts to feel like becoming.
It gets betterโnot because the world stops shifting, but because ๐ฌ๐ ๐ก๐๐๐ง๐ฃ ๐๐ค๐ฌ ๐ฉ๐ค ๐ข๐ค๐ซ๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ฉ๐ ๐๐ฉ.
โ๏ธ: Christneil Depatillo
๐จ: Carl Reinhard Barredo
