You Will Tell This Story

One day you will tell people how you pulled yourself out of the ocean when you couldn't even swim, how you kept your head above water with nothing but will, with arms that ached and lungs that burned, with no lifeguard coming, no shore in sight, just you against the current that tried to take you under.

You will tell them about the nights you didn't think you'd survive, the mornings you woke up surprised you were still breathing, the days you moved forward without knowing why, just because stopping felt more impossible than continuing.

You will tell them about teaching yourself to float in the deepest water, about learning to breathe between waves that kept crashing before you'd caught your breath from the last one.

You will stand somewhere solid, someday, looking back at the girl who thought she'd drown, who didn't have the strength she needed but found it anyway, who didn't know how to swim but refused to sink.

So don't you dare give up on her now. Don't you dare let her drown this close to shore, this close to becoming the story she'll tell someday, not the tragedy, but the miracle.

You are not done yet. You are mid sentence, not the period at the end. You are the storm still learning it survives itself, the ocean still finding its own way to calm.

One day, this will be the chapter where you almost gave up, but didn't.

Make sure you get to write it.