Burn What You Outgrew
A short ending ritual for the version of you that already left the building.
What you'll need
- A pen and a piece of paper you don't need back
- A fireproof dish, a sink, or a candle — whatever your building allows
- Ten minutes alone, phone on silence
The ritual
Write down the thing, the person, the era, or the version of yourself you're done carrying. Be specific. "The relationship" is fine. "The way I shrank myself in it" is better.
Read it once, out loud, in an empty room. You'll feel stupid. Keep going anyway.
Burn it, over the sink or in the dish, and actually watch it go. Don't scroll while it burns. This is the whole point — you're allowed ten uninterrupted minutes to mark that something ended.
When it's ash, rinse it down or toss it. Don't keep the remains. That defeats the purpose and you know it.
Ava's note
People treat endings like they need permission or a sign from the universe. They don't. You're allowed to decide something is over because you've simply decided. This ritual doesn't manifest anything — it just gives the decision a body, so it stops living only in your head at 2am.
Do it again in six months for whatever you've outgrown by then. There will be something.