At the end of the day, I just want to be proud of the person I have become. I want to be proud of the love I gave — of how I risked my heart despite being hurt. I want to be proud of the effort I showed those I cared about; I want to know with a ruthless certainty that I showed up as much as I could, that I made people feel seen, that I made those around me feel less alone in this chaotic world. I want to be proud of my life — of the way I healed, of the way I made mistakes and learned from them, of the way I felt everything even when it wasn’t convenient or comfortable. I want to be proud of the way I grew, of the way I let go, of the way I pushed myself to be a better person. At the end of the day, I just want to be able to say without hesitation that I lived my life, that I did not just take a back seat to my pain, or my flaws, or to whatever hardships came my way. I want to be able to say that I am proud of the way I survived. I want to be able to say that I did not take one day for granted.