An Act of Self-Preservation

I packed what was left of myself—
the parts that still asked questions,
the parts that flinched at half-truths,
the parts that knew the difference
between peace
and mere survival.

Somewhere between compromise and patience,
I traded my own voice

for certainty.

Certainty is not safety, and staying is not the same as living.

So I keep walking—
not with all the pieces,
not with answers,

but with faith,
courage,
and the quiet knowing
that I will survive—
as myself.