I met the emptiest version of me this year. The one who forgot how to shine The one who smiled through the ache just to survive the day. Host the parts of me that once felt alive. My spark. My rhythm. My peace. And now, it's just noise - loud thoughts, quiet pain, and a heart that keeps breaking in the same place. But maybe it's not about being okay. Maybe it's about breathing through the hurt. About waking up anyway. About whispering, with shaky hands and tired eyes, "I'm still here." Because that - that's strength. That's healing. That's hope wearing scars. And even when it feels like the world moved on without you - you're not behind You're rebuilding. One heartbeat at a time.