Born of the Storm

Nothing about me here is fragile. I am reaching through chaos with dirt on my skin, fire in my eyes, and no intention of being swallowed by the violence around me. Every part of this moment speaks of resistance — not graceful, not gentle, but raw, relentless, and alive. This is the version of me that does not break when the world turns brutal. This is the version that answers it.

What rises out of this darkness is not fear, but will. I am not waiting for rescue, and I am not pausing to mourn what was shattered behind me. I am moving forward because survival is already decided. There is rage in it, hunger in it, and a kind of power that only comes from having been pushed to the edge and choosing to come back stronger.