For most of my twenties I had no idea I was living on autopilot. I thought I was making choices. I was just reacting. To fear. To what people expected. To who I thought I had to be to be loved. Awareness did not arrive as an insight. It arrived as a crisis. The relationship ended. The version of me that was built around it collapsed. And in the wreckage I finally had to ask the question I had been avoiding for years. Who am I when there is nothing left to perform?