In my dreams, there’s a clicking sound I hear — a sound I’ve known for years, from classrooms, my room, and anywhere I needed it to click. Every time I stopped calculating, I started to dream — of someone I wanted to be, but also someone I needed to be. Because life doesn’t stop just because I stop clicking. It keeps calculating, even in death, after I am gone. *After I was gone.* And still, life changes its formulas — for the loved ones left behind, who carry on as the tool clicks on until its battery dies. These are the numbers I live with. These are the thoughts I calculate. So I choose to become not just who I wanted to be, but someone who is happy for me. And that — is me.