this is me trying

There is a feeling like standing outside someone else's house in the rain. No one seems to be chasing you, but inside you're already soaked to the skin. And all you can squeeze out of yourself is not excuses, not a pompous “I'm sorry,” but simply, “I'm trying.” Without a period, because a period sounds too confident for those who are just learning to breathe again.

Here, past victories rust away, the sparkling “wheels” of the past. Here, the mind is not a lifeline, but a weight on your feet. And yet, a person remains - with a trembling voice, confusion, and the tiny courage to appear at the threshold. Because sometimes the most honest thing you can do is not to show off your strength, but to admit: “At least I'm trying.”