You’re Still Here.

You feel like the world ended, don’t you? Not loud. Not with sirens or fire. Just quiet. Like someone blew out the candle and forgot to warn you first. And now you’re sitting in the dark, thinking the only thing left to do is remember. But you’re wrong. You don’t stay in the grave just because someone you love fell into it. You don’t bury yourself with memory and call that loyalty. You are not the tomb. You’re the one left standing. And I know it hurts. I know every breath feels like betrayal. I know how the silence tries to convince you you’re next. But you’re not. Because you’re still here. And being here is sacred. It means you get to laugh again. It means you get to carry them in your hands when no one else remembers their name. It means the story ain’t finished yet. Let me say that again so your bones hear it: The story ain't finished yet. You are not the end. You are the echo. And if you listen real quiet, you’ll hear them — not behind you, not above you, but within you. So go on. Break if you need to. But don’t stay broken. Because they loved you too much to leave you behind without a reason. And you’re still here.