Cure in Living

There are days when life feels less like a blessing,

and more like a burden I never signed up for.

The weight of expectations.
The ache of loss.
The quiet battles no one sees.
Sometimes, it feels like life itself is the curse.

But then
there’s a sunrise I didn’t ask for.
A laugh that escapes me when I thought I had nothing left.
A moment of stillness that feels, strangely, like peace.

And I remember:

If life is my curse, living is the cure.

Not just surviving 
but living.
Sitting with the pain, and still choosing to stay.
Not because it’s easy.
But because there’s something holy in persistence.

Because every time I breathe through a moment I thought would break me 
I reclaim a piece of myself.
Every scar becomes proof that I didn’t just endure life...
I engaged with it.
I lived through it.

And maybe that’s where healing begins 
not in avoiding the curse,
but in facing it, fully awake, and whispering,