learning to Be

I don’t feel hopeless. I don’t feel hopeful. I just… am. A heartbeat moving through hours that all look the same, each step a quiet survival. I can laugh, I can shine beneath the lights, my smile practiced, my laughter real enough to pass as joy. But when the curtain falls and the silence greets me— there I am, just me, still trying to understand what I feel. The world grows soft when I hear her feet, tiny thumps of life down the hall, and the paws that follow, a rush of warmth that reminds me I’m still here. And then night comes again— not cruel, just empty— and I breathe, slow and uneven, a quiet promise to myself: I am still learning how to breathe again.