I don’t know if I’m doing this right.
Some days it feels like I’m just stumbling through life, bumping into walls, tripping over the same pain I thought I already healed from. I wasn’t handed a map, didn’t grow up with someone showing me where to go or how to be. I’ve had to figure it out piece by broken piece.
But somehow… I’m still moving. I’ve clawed my way out of dark places alone, dragged myself through nights that felt like they’d never end. And even when the world tried to turn me cold, I kept searching for warmth.
I’m not there yet. Wherever “there” is, but I’m finding my way. Slowly. Messily. On my own terms.
