Some days, survival is the only goal.
Not happiness. Not peace. Just getting through the next hour without breaking.
I tell myself it’s okay to start small — to breathe, to rest, to exist quietly until the storm passes. Healing doesn’t happen all at once; it happens in moments you don’t even notice until later. The days you choose to keep going, even when you don’t know why.
I’ve learned that not every sunrise feels like a beginning. Some just feel like another chance — to try again, to forgive myself, to believe that one day this weight will feel lighter.
I don’t know when “better” starts.
But I’m still here, still fighting for it, even when I don’t see it yet.
Maybe that’s what faith really is —
not knowing what tomorrow holds, but trying anyway.
For a better day.
For the version of me who still believes there’s something worth reaching for.
Through the Fog 