# Demarking

## Carrying the Lines

We walk through life collecting faint lines on our skin and spirit—scratches from falls, traces from others' pens. A teacher's red ink on old homework, a friend's offhand word that lingers like graphite dust. These marks define us, or so we think, shaping steps and choices. In quiet moments, I trace them, wondering if they still fit the person holding the mirror.

## The Gentle Erase

Demarking starts with a soft cloth, not a harsh scrub. It's choosing one line at a time: forgiving a past stumble, releasing a role that chafes. No grand erasure, just steady breaths and honest questions—does this line serve now? In my notebook from years back, I see faded reminders of worries long past. Wiping them reveals blank space, ready for new strokes. This isn't forgetting; it's making room.

## Fresh Canvas

What stays are the marks we draw ourselves—lines of quiet joys, boundaries that protect without walls. Demarking uncovers a simpler shape beneath the clutter, one that moves freer under open sky.

- A walk without old grudges pulling at heels.
- Conversations stripped to true intent.
- Days where self feels like home, not a map of elsewhere.

*Demarking doesn't erase us; it redraws the lines we choose.*