Metamorphosis

Change is not a gentle narrator. It revises beliefs without asking, swaps the furniture while you sleep, calls the disruption renewal.

Metamorphosis is shed skin on the floor — uncomfortable proof you outgrew a version you were still performing.

Transmutation sounds holy. Mostly it is labor: unlearning reflex, paying for new reflex.

Variance opens doors and invoices you for the draft.

Adaptation is not virtue by default. It is response — ebb, give, take, the track you lay by how you react when the old way stops working.

Beautiful dream is the wrong promise. Serene is possible only if you stop requiring applause from the cocoon.

The skin still sheds. You still grow into the next room.

JV · Dark Heart Labs