It wasn’t an ending.

Not really.
Just something unplanned,
that turned out to be a beginning.

This time,
I freed myself from the duty of trying.

From the duty to hold,
to understand,
to accept,
question,
answer,
and wait
for something
that never once met me halfway.

And for the first time in months
after everything fell apart,

I felt tired
in a way that didn’t scare me.

Like my body was finally allowed
to stop bracing for impact.

The fog isn’t gone.
But it’s thinning.

And though the way out is still sunless,
I can feel it.
I can feel that there is a way out.

Yes, it’s the irony that stings.
And the hypocrisy that burns.

That I gave so much grace to everything.
Except for myself.

That I kept waiting to feel
like I was worth staying for.
When it was always me
I kept abandoning.

I don’t know how long this will take.
How much of me I’ll have to rebuild.
Or how many days will still taste like survival.

But for now,
this is enough.
More than enough.

Tomorrow can come when it does.
Yesterday can stay where it belongs.

Today, I will live
for just one more sunrise,
and one more fall of night.

Thank you for holding on
as long and as far as you could.

Here and now,
you can start breathing for your own lungs.