The Weight of Survival

7/7/2026

My chest heaves. The air enters my lungs in deep gulps. All the denied emotions of the last year begin wracking my body. The weight of survival slowly lifts. How did I not realize? How did I not see I was in a tunnel of survival? No… I buried myself beneath the idea of survival I created. Whatever good came my way I deflected with the armor of that survival.

I had stopped. Stopped caring, stopped trying, stopped putting in effort. I stopped living. It didn’t happen all at once. The gradual pace at which I gave up my happiness was like a summer storm slowly rolling in over the horizon. With each piece I gave up, I sank further into my protection of survival. If I didn’t experience life, I wasn’t giving anyone the power to hurt me. My vision was only the tunnel.

I sacrificed every bit of happiness I could’ve had. The realizations overwhelm me. If not for my recent escape, I would drown under their weight. The weight of all the missed opportunities, the lost moments of connection, the burden I became to others. This world in which I found solace has become my nightmare. It will not be my tomb.

The illusion is broken. I now see the truth in front of me. I am more than what I have been. I am not my history. There is a beautiful world I have been denying and I will deny no longer. I welcome the good, the experiences, and the heartache. I will live with all there is to come.

Today, I begin.

--Wyatt Ridley