Poem: Want to Live

I want to live,  

not just survive,  

not just tread water,  

gasping for breath in the ocean of a body that feels like it's betraying me.  

I want to live.  

Not in the numbness of "getting by,"  

not in the shadows of pills and procedures,  

of "let's see if this works," and "maybe next time,"  

of the invisible chains that tie me to my bed when the world expects me to run.  

I want to live.  

I want to feel every sunrise deep in my chest,  

not as another battle I have to fight,  

but as a gift—wrapped in fire and hope.  

I want to wear joy like a second skin,  

not a mask I put on to make you comfortable.  

You ask me how I’m doing,  

and I tell you “fine,”  

because you’re not ready for the storm behind my eyes.  

You’re not ready for the truth that “fine” means more than I can explain.  

That “fine” is the warrior’s whisper after a hundred sleepless nights.  

That “fine” is not good enough.  

Not for me.  

I want more than fine.  

I want laughter that makes my ribs ache in the best way.  

I want to dance in this broken, beautiful body,  

even if it’s only in my mind.  

I want to stretch out my hands and feel the world,  

not through a fog of fatigue,  

but with the fire of a life fully lived.  

I want to live,  

not just survive.  

I want to say “yes” without hesitation,  

to plans that don’t come with a checklist of "what-ifs."  

I want to dream big without calculating the cost of my energy like it’s currency I never have enough of.  

I want to be more than my limits,  

to rise above them,  

to shatter the ceiling that keeps me from reaching my own sky.  

Because I am not my illness.  

I am not my diagnosis.  

I am not the quiet resignation of survival,  

but the loud roar of a life that refuses to shrink.  

I want to live.  

And I will.  

With this body, with this pain, with these scars.  

I will live.

- Giusiana