I used to think that when my skin wrinkled and my hair turned thin and grey, I would find peace within. “I’ll be older then,” I said. “I’ll know the way of the world, and I’ll be at peace.” That was when I was young. I’m still young now—not even a quarter through life. But my eyes have sunk in, and fine lines crease from pulling away tears. My hair has started falling out—maybe ripped out by my own hands—

I found a grey.

I used to think that when I was older, I wouldn’t be afraid of anything anymore. But as the years passed, I only grew more fearful. You can only be afraid if you have something to lose, and sometimes it feels like I have everything to lose.

But there is one thing I will always have, no matter how the anxiety blubbers or how many times I let my intrusive thoughts get in the way of my happiness.

I will always have me. Even when I’m my own villain, I will rise—not because there is no other way but because it is my way. I’ve stood against fires I never thought I’d be able to put out, lost in a sea where I thought I’d drown.

I survived—not because I wanted to but because it was the only way. And now I don’t want to survive any longer. I want to live in the present instead of hunting down a memory lost, or praying for a better future found.

I want to live in the now. Feel my heart beating in my chest and say, “I did it—I’m doing it.”

I’m right here.