I am still alive.

We've all been to that place. That place where your worst nightmares seem to be coming true all at the same time. You cry tears from somewhere deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed, and the pain of what's just transpired is so real and heavy and you're sure you're going to die.

But you don't.

A day goes by and then two and then three, and by some miracle, you are still alive.

You stop fretting and you start letting go. Your face softens, you smile again. You let yourself entertain thoughts of a new future in your head. "I can go anywhere," you think. "I can be anything."

It hurts, of course it hurts, and the thought of it will probably always send a twinge straight to your heart. But you survived. You lived.

It's been one week, and I am still alive.