maybe that's the thing, the way the light catches someone's face when they realize they're not alone in the dark, and something softens, something real opens up in their eyes, and my chest feels...not full, not exactly. more like the bones themselves have more room to breathe, there's space where there wasn't before, not because i fixed anything, god knows i can't fix anything, but because presence is a kind of oxygen, a kind of water to a wilting thing, i just showed up and stood there and it was enough, and that's staggering, isn't it, that the simple act of being can be a miracle somebody needed, that's what i carry around with me now, the quiet knowing that i don't have to be a hero, just human, just present, just willing to share the air