There’s a strange kind of relief in realizing you don’t have to wrestle every answer to the ground. That not every moment needs to be neatly filed under ‘this is why it happened’ or ‘this is what it means.’ Some things just are. Some people just come and go. Some paths lead exactly where they were meant to, even if you had no idea at the start.
Understanding always seemed like a prerequisite for moving forward. That if every chain reaction of events—who did what, what led to what, where the cracks began—could be untangled, peace would follow. But peace isn’t hidden inside explanations. It’s in the acceptance that you don’t need them.
It’s odd how certain moments feel like they should be bigger. Like they should arrive with a drumroll, announcing their importance. But the biggest shifts happen quietly. A thought slipping into place, weight lifting in increments, clarity arriving not in fireworks but in a quiet exhale.
Things have been carried longer than they should have—guilt, regret, the last words of people who don’t even remember saying them. But at some point, a step forward happens, and suddenly, they’re not there anymore. Not because of forced letting go, but because the distance has made them fall away on their own.
We all think we need closure, that one final scene that ties it all up. But maybe the real ending isn’t a conversation, an apology, or a breakthrough moment. Maybe it’s just reaching a place where it’s no longer needed.
Proof always felt necessary—that things mattered, that all the love, the effort, the loss, and the ache weren’t wasted. But proof isn’t needed. Some things mattered simply because they did. Some things changed everything in ways that aren’t even recognizable yet. And that’s enough.
So much of life is like trying to catch something just beneath the surface—almost grasping it, feeling its presence, but watching it slip away the moment it’s reached for. Maybe the trick is to stop reaching. To trust that knowing it’s there is enough.
Every answer isn’t necessary. Every piece doesn’t need to fit perfectly. What happened happened. What was lost, was lost. What was gained, was gained. And what remains, remains. And that’s wild enough.
PS: The crux of my learning from Wild.
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