it's 12am on nine-eleven-twenty-twenty.
my name is rowan, and i am eighteen.
i have struggled. i have cried. i did not think i'd make it this far.
i did not think i'd do half the things i have.

i did not think i knew how to love. how to cry. how to be human.
i believed i was a waste of a creature,
a husk of what someone was supposed to be.
that i was not meant to be here.

sixteen. that was the age. i wasn't supposed to live past then.
but i am here. i am here on wobbly legs. i am standing on my own.
i am here, and i will not go.
by virtue of creation, i am allowed to live.

there is nothing anyone can say or do that can take that away from me.
i am my own person. i am a person. i am me.
nothing more, nothing less. i am me.
i have a heartbeat, i have blood coursing through my veins. i am me.

getting this far was turbulent. still, i am recovering.
i am learning about myself. about people. about things.
i stand on shaky legs, but i am here. i am me.
and no one can take this away from me.