The world is uncomfortable with what it cannot see. We are taught to rally against cancer, to wage wars on failing organs, but we do not know how to hold space for the quiet, interior battles. We turn away from suffering that does not bleed, does not show itself in scars and statistics. And yet, pain is pain. It does not lessen because it is unseen.

I am learning the girl I once was. Her face, her hands, her voice appear in old photographs, in journals with ink bleeding like bruises. She startles me. Her mania hangs in the air like smoke; her suffering is sharp, unyielding. I read her pages and shiver at the clarity of her terror and courage.

What is better: uncomfortable truth or comfortable lies? Every truth is a kindness, even if it makes others uncomfortable. Every untruth is an unkindness, even if it makes others comfortable.

The future is, as it always has been, an open question. It holds both promise and uncertainty, joy and hardship. Perhaps the key lies in accepting that life will continue to ebb and flow. Stability may never be a permanent fixture, but it doesn’t have to be. What matters is the ability to adapt, to cherish moments of calm, and to remain hopeful in the face of change.

"I am" is not merely a statement of existence; it’s an invitation to explore what it means to be. This project is not about crafting a neat, cohesive narrative of my life. Instead, it’s about embracing the messiness, the contradictions, and the unresolved questions. It’s about finding the threads of continuity in a life that often felt disjointed.

I miss the rush. The excitement. The sense of being in motion and surrounded by energy. I want that feeling again, desperately. I need something—someone, somewhere, something—to reignite the fire in my belly, but I don’t know where to look. I feel ridiculous, wallowing in this unmotivated sadness, waiting for a spark that never seems to come.

Still, I am trying to hold onto hope, fragile though it may be. I remind myself that energy does not have to be a warning; it can also be a gift, an opportunity to focus on self-care and wellbeing. Learning to trust these moments, to believe they are not always harbingers of collapse, feels like its own act of resilience.