What If, Rewritten

What If, Rewritten

On forgiveness, imagination, and the courage to leave questions open

What if is not a wound.

It’s a sketchbook.

Loose pages,

unfinished lines,

ideas that were never meant

to become proof.

What if doesn’t ask

why you failed.

It asks

what else might live here

now that you’re listening.

Some lives are not chosen

because they were wrong,

but because timing

had other work to do.

Some doors stay closed

not as punishment,

but as protection—

until the hand that opens them

belongs to someone

who has learned to stay.

So I forgive myself

for the drafts I abandoned.

They were not mistakes.

They were studies.

I forgive myself

for believing completion

was the only form of worth.

What if is imagination

trying to breathe

without being pressed

into outcome.

And today,

I let it create without verdict.

I let it ask

without dragging me backward.

I let it remain a field—

not a sentence.

—

Flower InBloom