“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart: I am, I am, I am.”
— Sylvia Plath,The Bell Jar
I read this on a night when I felt like I was disappearing — not dramatically, just quietly, the way you stop recognizing yourself in small ways. I’d been so caught up in what I hadn’t done, what I’d gotten wrong, that I’d lost track of the simplest fact: I was still here. The line stopped me cold. Your heart doesn’t care about your failures or your fears. It just keeps going.
On the hardest days I come back to it like a small anchor. Not as a cure, not as a fix — just as a reminder that whatever else is falling apart, something in me is still insisting on existing. That’s not nothing. That’s actually everything.