Learning How to Last

Verse 1

I learned the shape of what to say

Before I learned what I meant

I started arriving as someone else

And calling it being present

There’s a version of me that still waits

For a feeling to finish the thought

But time keeps handing me outcomes

I don’t remember wanting this much

I thought the change would announce itself

But it just kept happening quietly

Chorus

I kept what stayed

I released what didn’t argue

Somehow I’m full

And still reaching

I’m standing where I said I would be

It just doesn’t feel like arrival

I gained a name that answers quickly

And lost the question behind it

Verse 2

Some connections thinned without warning

Not broken, just less defined

No final sentence to quote later

Just pauses that never replied

I learned how to hold things gently

So nothing could see me shake

I call it balance, I call it control

But it feels like learning how to wait

There was a version of hope I trusted

That didn’t need evidence

Chorus

I kept what stayed

I released what grew heavier

Somehow I’m steady

And still drifting

I’m wearing the life I was given

Like it fits from a distance

I gained a future I can maintain

And misplaced my resistance

If this is growth

Why does it feel like subtraction

If this is clarity

Why do I miss the blur

I don’t ache the way I used to

I don’t glow either

Final Chorus

I kept what stayed

Even when it felt smaller

I learned how to last

Without asking

I’m standing inside the result

Of every careful decision

I gained the strength to keep going

And lost the sound of my own permission

Maybe this is the point

Or maybe it’s just the middle

And I’m learning how to live

Without a signal