I Survived Myself

There was a time

when mornings felt like goodbyes,

and even the mirror looked tired of me.

I laughed less, slept more,

and wore silence like second skin.

But healing didn’t come crashing in 

it whispered.

In small wins, soft songs,

and random 3 a.m. realizations

that maybe I deserved peace too.

I stopped waiting for light,

and became it

bit by bit,

word by word,

day by unstable day.

Depression didn’t disappear overnight,

it just learned to take the passenger seat.

And I learned

that surviving isn’t loud

it’s quiet,

brave,

and still counts.

Now when the darkness knocks,

I leave the door half open

because even shadows

remind me how far

the sun has come.