Still Here
Survival is not a mood. It is a record.
Still here is not triumph language. It is inventory.
It means the body kept going after the story said it shouldn't. It means the work of remaining happened in private, without a ceremony, without an audience prepared to call it brave.
I am suspicious of redemption arcs that tidy a life too quickly. What I trust is the unglamorous fact of continuation.
Still here. That is the sentence. The rest is commentary.