Life moves in quiet circles,
some soft like morning light,
others heavy like rain that never ends.
We walk through days that test our spirit,
nights that press on our chest
until we forget what breathing feels like.
We learn by breaking
by losing people we thought would stay,
by holding in the kind of pain
that no one ever notices.
We smile because it’s easier
than explaining why we’re hurting,
and we say “I’m fine”
while our hearts whisper things
we don’t have the strength to say out loud.
Some nights feel endless,
like we’re fighting battles
with no one on our side.
We try to outrun the memories,
try to fix what life has cracked,
but some pieces just don’t fit anymore.
And it’s sad
how growing up feels like letting go
of versions of ourselves
we never got to fully be.
But even in the darkness,
even when our chest feels bruised
from all the things we carry,
there’s a spark in us that refuses to die.
A small, stubborn light
that whispers, keep going.
Because life, for all its storms,
still offers new beginnings
in the softest, quietest ways.
We rise again
not because it’s easy,
not because we’re unbroken,
but because something in us
believes tomorrow might hurt less,
might heal more,
might hold a moment
that makes the struggle worth it.
Life isn’t perfect,
and neither are we.
But even with the scars,
even with the sadness we never say out loud,
we’re still here
growing, surviving,
becoming stronger
than everything that tried to break us.

Question