Safety has a feeling now. You know it because you've known its absence. And that knowing has changed you quietly the way light changes a room without announcing itself. What you once accepted without question is beginning to ask something back. Not with anger. Not with urgency. Just a soft, persistent knowing that some things no longer fit the space you're returning to. People you bent yourself around. Places that asked you to shrink. Things that felt normal because surviving them became familiar. You're not leaving in haste. You're leaving in clarity. This is what reorientation feels like. Not a door slammed, but a direction chosen. Not rejection, but an honest recognition of what belongs in a life that finally feels like yours. Safety is no longer something you search for in others. It has returned to where it was always meant to live. In you. As you. From you. And from here, you'll know the difference.