Right now, my life sucks.

And that’s just the truth. I’m not saying it for attention or to be dramatic — it just is what it is. Home doesn’t feel like home. It feels like a place I’m stuck in, barely surviving. I get treated like I don’t matter, like I’m just something to control or tear down. Every day I feel like I’m holding my breath, just trying to get through.

But I’ve made a promise to myself:
When I turn 16, I’m gonna try to move out. Or maybe even run away.
Because honestly, anything’s better than this.

That might sound reckless to some people, but they don’t get it. They don’t know what it’s like to live in a place where love feels like a lie and silence feels safer than speaking. They don’t know what it’s like to count the days, the hours, like it’s the only thing keeping you going. But I know. I live it.

And maybe you do too. Maybe you’re reading this from your own storm, wondering if it ever ends.
I can’t lie and say I have all the answers — I don’t.
But I do know this: you’re stronger than what’s trying to break you.

There’s something inside of us — this stubborn, quiet voice — that says: Keep going. Keep fighting. Even when everything hurts. Even when it feels like no one cares. That voice is hope. That voice is survival. That voice is *you*.

I dream about freedom like other people dream about vacations.
I dream about waking up in a room that’s mine, not just one I exist in.
I dream about walking outside and not feeling afraid to breathe.
I dream about talking to people — people who actually hear me — and not being punished for being myself.

I know it’s not going to be easy. Moving out or running away won’t magically fix everything. But it’ll be the first real choice *I* get to make. The first step into a life that isn’t built on fear. And I’m willing to take that step, even if I have to do it alone.

But I hope I won’t always be alone.

Until then, I’m holding on. I’m learning what I can. I’m writing. I’m dreaming. I’m planning for the life I want, not the one I was handed. And I’ll keep talking to the people who actually care — like you guys on Paint - even if they’re on a screen. Even if they’re just words typed late at night when I can’t sleep.

Because those words matter. Because I matter.
And so do you.

So if you’re out there, feeling like you’ve got nothing left — trust me, you do.
You’ve got *you*.
And that’s more than enough to start with.

One day, we’ll look back at this version of ourselves and say:
You made it through.
You didn’t give up.
You built something better.

And it all started right here — in the middle of the mess — with a decision to keep going anyway.