What are you most proud of?
That I don’t see life as a miserable, gruelling concept.
That I don’t see life as something forced onto me.
That I still manage to find the light, the crack in the sidewalk to sprout from.
How, even through convoluted grief and anger at years lost to trauma and heartbreaks of every genre but romantic, I still want to be alive.
How, even through the identity changes, early maturation and dissociation, I crave a fresh morning to begin again.
How, even through adversity, I still desire this life; my life.
Because I want to feel the sun on my scars.
Because joy is more potent when sorrow is steeped in with it.
Because I want to love, to mourn, to laugh, to sob, to emote,
And I will pursue this at any cost.