Like dying, yes.

There, I thought, maybe I will finally learn how to be cut without being breached.

And there, at last, maybe I will be a thing held and hummed and not forgotten, because I hear that you can’t be taken away against your will if you give yourself first.

Do you hear me? I’ll give myself. First. Already.

I swear it. I swear it, I do. I do. To the old gods and the new, to this word and the next and what comes after, to the stars that were only ever the tears of an unseen sun, to whatever else is watching when you don’t, I swear it.

To find this thing and lose myself to it, or lose myself in the searching. Which, I suppose, is the same thing.