Until Brighter Days Find Me

I’m no longer that person—
the one who dreamed big,
the one who whispered
“keep going” even on days
when nobody else believed.

The one who found reasons
to smile in borrowed moments
and called them hope.

Somewhere along the way,
I became tired—
not just the kind
that sleep can fix,
but the kind of tired
that comes from always
having to prove more,
always having to become more,
until I started wondering
if the things I prayed for
were ever meant for me.

Then I slowly stopped recognizing
the person in the mirror.
I stopped chasing.
I stopped believing
that tomorrow would be kinder—
because maybe it never will.

Or maybe, it will be—
just not today, not tomorrow,
but in some distant days
I haven’t reached yet.

And there are nights
when I grieve
for the version of me
who thought
I could survive anything.

But maybe—
maybe losing myself,
more and more,
with every passing day,
doesn’t mean
I’ve lost my future.

Maybe this season
was never meant
for achieving more.

Maybe it wasn’t meant
for victories,
or milestones,
or proving my worth.

Maybe it was meant
to teach me
how to slow down—
to carry my baggage
with gentler hands,
and to forgive myself
for being human.

So if the only thing
I can do today
is breathe—
then I will breathe.

If the only thing
I can do is continue living,
then I will live.

And if all I can offer
is one more step,
then I will take it.

Because I still believe—
yes, don’t get me wrong—
that somewhere beyond
these weary days,
the person I used to be
is still waiting.

Not to remind me
of who I was,
nor to ask me
to become him again,
but to show me
that even after all this—
there are still dreams
worth waking up for,
there are still reasons
to stay,
and there are still brighter days
that will find me,
when the time is right.

Until then,
I will keep breathing.
And perhaps—
for now—
that is enough.