Last Year On Fire

A year of chaos, grief, and mistakes. Choices I thought were right burned everything.

Everything cracked.
Every day a new cut.
Every night a scream in my chest.

I ran in circles—
trying to catch moments that slipped through my fingers,
trying to catch myself before I fell apart.

People left.
People vanished.
Choices I thought were right burned everything anyway.

I said yes when I should have said no.
I trusted when I shouldn’t have.
I cried alone while my son laughed somewhere else,
like my grief was invisible air he didn’t need to breathe.

Chaos isn’t neat.
It doesn’t wait for you to catch up.
It slammed doors, stole sleep,
turned love into guilt,
made every heartbeat too loud.

I let grief in.
I let anger in.
I let fear guide me.

And still—
I survived.

I am messy.
I am raw.
Jagged edges and tears
and quiet moments no one sees.

And yet…
tiny sparks survive.
A smile.
A laugh.
A touch.
Reminders that even in fire,
life doesn’t leave you entirely.

This year didn’t give me closure.
It didn’t give me triumph.
It gave me endurance.
A chaotic, scorched endurance.

And I am still here.