Between pain and survival, I stand alone, torn between a heart that refuses to let go and a soul that can no longer this weight.
Pain is no longer a passing feeling for me; it has become a harsh homeland I was forced to live in—draining me slowly, consuming what remains of my peace. I used to cling to it because traces of you were there, because it held echoes of what I once loved… but the more I held on, the deeper I drowned.
As for survival, it was never the easy escape I imagined. It was a painful decision, like tearing something out of my chest with my own hands and walking away while bleeding in silence.
I chose survival not because I became strong, but because I collapsed to the point of helplessness—because staying in that pain was a delayed death, exhausting me day after day without mercy.
I know that when I survive, I will lose so much—I will lose what I loved, what I was used to, what I once wished for… but I will not lose myself anymore.
This is who I am—between pain and survival: a heart that longs to stay, and a soul that screams to leave… and I choose survival, even if the price is that my heart breaks forev.