To bruise is to exist.
On the mats, let me suffocate. A knee pressed against my ribcage, a forearm wrapped around my neck like a hollow snake - and for the first time, I feel alive.
I want the path that drags blood to the surface. The ache in my ribs is the proof of commitment to a new world, a new life. Pain strips away all that is performative, and I have chosen to suffer. I teach myself Excel and Python - not for fun, but to carve out something real.
There is comfort in the padded cell of inertia. From this moment forward, I will let the bruises bloom - difficulty demands transformation.
