It arrives buried —

under survival stories dressed as strategy,

under the voice you borrowed to be taken seriously,

under the metrics you mistook for meaning.

This isn’t about building something new.

It’s about digging out what you forgot was yours.

You thought you were building a brand.

But really, you were building a mask that looked good in the feed.

And now? The silence beneath the surface is louder than the applause.

Excavation is slow. Tender. Sometimes brutal.

It’s holding up every story you’ve told and asking:

Which one is still mine?

Which one was protection?

Which one deserves a funeral, not a feature?

You’re not here to go viral.

You’re here to go inward.

And down here — beneath the templates, beneath the persona —

you start to hear it.

A voice that doesn’t ask for permission.

A voice that sounds like you.