I wrote something in September when I was still in it. This is where I am now.

2025 broke me. 

Not all at once. Slowly, then all at once.  

Loss came in waves. Quiet at first, then closer together, until there was no space left to breathe. Stability slipped. Rest stopped restoring me. Even waking up felt like a war I was tired of fighting.  

Days turned into months, and nothing paused. No mercy. Life kept moving like it didn’t care. It watched me break, piece by piece, and said nothing.  

Still, I kept going.  

I continued without knowing where any of it was leading. 

I woke up on days I didn’t want to. 

At some point, I was just living because I was still breathing. Every night, I had to choose to continue.

“Just breathe one more time,” I told myself. 

“And then again.”  

I stayed soft in places where it would have been easier to harden. 

I carried more than I should have. For longer than I should have.  

But I am no longer there.  

I stopped waiting for answers that would never come. 

For apologies that would never be made.  

Not everything happens for a reason.  

And I stopped expecting life to reward me for enduring my pain. That part, I had to go through alone. 

I gathered what was left of me. Even when it hurt. 

Even when it meant reopening wounds just to stand again.  

I stood up. 

Stepped on the broken pieces. 

Let them cut me one last time.  

And I left.

Quietly. Slowly. Without applause.  

The world doesn’t owe me anything.  

There were moments I wanted things to balance out. 

To make sense of everything that happened.  

But life doesn’t work that way.  

Bad things happen. 

People make choices. Some careless. Some thoughtless. Some just human.  

I stopped trying to figure out who was right or wrong.  

Humans are flawed. 

So am I.  

I feel deeper. 

I stay longer.

I thought that was strength.  

But I am no longer there.  

I am no longer confusing endurance with strength, 

or survival with a life well-lived.  

I have learned enough from pain. 

I don’t need more of it to discover who I am.  

These days, I prefer things that are clear from the outset.  

Peace that doesn’t feel temporary. 

Rest that isn’t earned through exhaustion. 

Days that don’t feel like something I have to brace for.  

I want people who mean what they say. 

Who stay when they say they will. 

Who meet me with honesty, not confusion.  

And when it comes to love,

I am not waiting anymore. 

I am choosing.  

Nothing intense. 

Nothing intermittent. 

Nothing that needs interpretation.  

Just consistent.  

If something is present, it should stay. 

If it isn’t, it shouldn’t need explaining.  

Anything less, I let go.  

I don’t need to be saved. 

I am not here to be fixed. 

I will no longer carry what isn’t mine.  

I have done my part. 

I stayed when it was hard. 

I grew when it would have been easier to walk away. 

I rebuilt more times than I can count.  

If there is more ahead of me, let it be steady. 

If I still have to grow, let it be gentle this time.  

Let me wear my dresses and heels and smile without thinking twice. 

Let me walk in the sun and feel the wind on my face. 

Let me dance in the rain and feel it cool my skin.  

Let me laugh.  

Let me have this.  

When love comes, I want it to meet me where I stand.  

Not halfway. 

Not almost. 

Not certain.  

Here. 

And steady.  

Or not at all.  

I have carried enough.  

This time, I am choosing to live.