D-0: Bonus In. Resignation Out. No Turning Back.

The day I actually quit. No drama. No applause. Just the cleanest line I’ve ever drawn.

Today is the day.

Bonus in.
Resignation out.
No turning back.

Turns out, you don’t need 404 subs to make a final call.
You just need one clear moment of truth - and the nerve to hit “Send”.

I’ve played this day in my head for months.
I expected panic. I expected fear.
I expected it to feel like I was setting my life on fire.

But instead?

There’s this eerie calm - like I’ve finally caught up with a decision my body made long before my mind admitted it.

It’s not joy. It’s not grief either.
It’s... space.
The kind of space that feels expensive - because you’ve had to fight your way through noise to earn it.

---

I went into the office this morning because it mattered to me how I broke the news to the person who mattered to me.
Not a Teams call. Not an email. Not a message dumped into his inbox.

Face-to-face. Fully vulnerable. No hiding.

We had a long conversation - honest, respectful - and had each other’s best interest in mind.
I told him upfront. Gave him the full day to process and work on options before anything formal hit his inbox.

We didn’t just talk about me leaving.
We talked about how he could manage after I’m gone - about how bleak the options looked, and about what needed to happen next.
Because leaving clean isn’t just about finishing my own race.
It’s about not burning the track behind me.

No rage. No drama.
Just clarity - and a deep respect for everything we’ve built.

I spent the afternoon deep in conflicted thoughts, trying to find the cleanest way to close this chapter today.
I didn’t want to rush it. I wanted to do it right.
And finally, after another long conversation and an understanding nod from him, I pressed “Send”.

Not with anger. Not with regret.
But with the quiet weight of someone who knows this door has to close - even if he wishes it doesn’t have to.

---

This isn’t my last day. I still owe the system five more weeks.

I thought I’d feel terrified. Or euphoric.
But what I feel is… clear.
Like a fog finally lifting after years of pretending something still fit.

I keep waiting for the dread to kick in.
But it’s quiet.
Weirdly quiet.

It’s not because I have everything figured out - I don’t.
It’s because I finally stopped pretending that staying was still serving me.

There’s relief - deep, physical relief - in no longer negotiating with yourself every morning.
Today is the right day to resign.
Even delaying one more day would’ve done more damage.

I got the FY2024 bonus I earned.
Every extra day from here starts adding tiny weight - not to the case for staying,
but to the opportunity cost of leaving.

And that’s how it traps you. Slowly. Rationally. Annually.

No more daily mental Muay Thai about:
“Just one more year.”
“Once the chaos dies down.”
“Maybe they will finally see my value.”

I don’t need a perfect plan.
I just needed to stop lying to myself that this is what I wanted.

---

There’s fear, of course. It hums underneath everything.
What if this was dumb?
What if nothing works out?
What if I just signed away my stability for a shot at... what, exactly?

But strangely, those thoughts don’t rattle me as much as they used to.
Because the scariest question isn’t “what if I fail”?
It’s “what if I never try”?

And today, at least, I chose the better fear.

---

Clean exits don’t happen when everything’s figured out.
They happen when the maths and the emotion finally agree.

The clock starts now.
Five more weeks of “business as usual” - except I’m not playing the game anymore.

I’ll still show up. Still deliver to the highest standards.
But that’s just who I am.

The weight is gone.
And the outcome? It doesn’t own me anymore.

I’m not here to burn bridges.
I’m here to finish clean, exit clear, and leave a legacy that doesn’t need explaining.

That’s it.
Cloud Atlas End Title is fading in my earphones.

A quiet toast. Three soft smiles.
And the tap of “Send.”

In the silence that followed, a voice I haven’t heard in years - steady, quiet, familiar - finally broke through:

“You did the right thing.”

- MJ 2.0

---

Thank you, T - “…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer…”
You were the calm before the leap. I wouldn’t have had the courage to do this without you. I mean it.

Thank you, K - "You made it harder to leave. And that’s the highest compliment I can give."
Thank you for understanding even when it hurt. You were the last good reason to stay.