Have you ever felt like the world is moving forward while you're still stuck in the past? That's where I find myself, standing in front of my easel, wrestling with half-finished sculptures and a heart that's been fractured since losing my mother. I've spent the last year sculpting in solitude, letting my grief carve out pieces of me. And just when I thought I had fully retreated into my messy little artist world, Jordan-the boy who once filled my teenage afternoons with dreams of adventure-walks back into my life, fresh from New York and brimming with confidence. As much as I'd like to pretend everything's the same, we've both changed. He's a reminder of the person I used to be, and the version of myself I'm too scared to let the world see. Can I trust myself to follow this spark of connection, to let my art-and maybe even my heart-be exposed? Or am I too caught up in sculpting the perfect life that I'm missing the one standing right in front of me? Sometimes the hardest thing to do is not to create something new-but to let yourself be seen.