Sometimes I sit with this heavy thought how different life could've been if I ever got the chance to actually live... instead of constantly healing from things I never asked for. I wonder who I would've become if I wasn't always recovering from someone else's damage, from situations that weren't my fault but somehow became my responsibility to carry. There's a kind of sadness in realizing that most of my energy went into surviving, not living. And maybe that's what hurts the most - not what happened, but everything I missed while trying to make sense of it. The moments I lost. I deserved more. But life... it never waited for me to catch up. It just kept going, while I stayed behind - patching up matounds I never caused.