Still

Still

-for anyone who’s tired, and still here

This wasn’t the life I ordered.

I didn’t ask for pain served on a chipped plate with survival on the side.

I didn’t sign up to be strong for everyone else while I crumbled in corners no one noticed.

I didn’t ask to feel everything so deeply that even a video of a stray cat could split my chest open.

But here I am.

Still running. Still burning. Still hoping in secret.

And now—I'm crashing.

Quietly. Brutally.

Like a building everyone forgot to evacuate.

Because survival mode has a cost.

It wears your voice thin.

It makes rest feel dangerous.

It makes joy feel suspicious.

And still—somehow—I am here.

So hear me,

even if my voice shakes:

I am not broken.

I am tired in a way this world doesn’t know how to hold.

I am tired of giving softness to a world that eats it.

I am tired of being the light in rooms where no one ever lights a candle for me.

But I’m here.

And if I crash, I will still rise.

Maybe not quickly.

Maybe not beautifully.

But I will—because I have learned how to rebuild from ash.

And maybe you have, too.

So if you’re reading this and your hands are shaking,

if your eyes are swollen from crying over things no one else sees,

if you think you’re too much, too soft, too tired—

you’re not.

You are still.

Still needed.

Still loved.

Still here.

Even when the world goes quiet,

your breath counts as proof

that something good is trying to live through you.

So rest.

And when you’re ready,

build again. -saj