Why I’m Still Here

It wasn’t because I found the light.
It wasn’t faith. Or family. Or some perfect little turning point where the rain cleared and the birds started singing.

No. I’m still here because I’m too fucking stubborn to stay dead.

I’m still here because I’ve seen what dying looks like.
It’s a closed casket at a military funeral.
It’s your mom choking on a bite of dinner while you’re six hours away.
It’s a missed call you can never return.
It’s your brother's last voicemail that you deleted by accident.
It’s the punchline of a joke no one tells anymore.

I didn’t want to die.
But I didn’t want to live like this, either.
So I kept moving. Out of spite.

Rage kept me warm.
Sarcasm made me bearable.
A good playlist made me dangerous.
And the people who left me taught me how to stay.

I’m still here because grief didn’t finish the job.
Because I learned how to eat around the broken pieces.
Because I learned how to laugh while bleeding.
Because I built a throne out of the ruins and dared the world to knock me down again.

I’m still here because my dog needed someone to walk him.
Because my wife saw through the walls I built and said, “Let me in.”
Because somewhere in the abyss, I found a story I hadn’t told yet.

I’m still here because I’ve already buried too many people who didn’t get the chance to say, “Fuck it, I’ll try again.”

I’m still here because there’s shit I haven’t written.
Because there’s a version of me, ten years from now, who’s sharper, leaner, meaner—and I want to see him.
I want to be him.

I’m still here because nobody gets to write my ending but me.

So if you’re looking for a clean reason? A tidy moral? A savior?

Wrong blog.

I’m here because I decided to be.
Because I clawed my way through hell and realized I’d rather build something out of the ashes than rot in the corner.
Because I still get goosebumps when the bass drops.
Because I still cry when I think about my mom’s laugh.
Because I still feel something when I hit publish.

And that’s enough.

Some days, barely.
But enough.

So yeah, I’m still here.
That’s the miracle.
That’s the threat.
That’s the next goddamn chapter.

Now let’s see what I do with it.