one finger left.

you know how in movies,

when the most lovable character is falling,

his body heavy with the weight of staying,

he clings to the ledge with everything he has,

knuckles white, breath shallow,

hope trembling like glass in his throat.

and then,

the strength begins to fade.

one hand slips,

then another, 

until there's only one finger left,

between him and the end.

in those last few seconds,

he's caught between fighting and surrender,

between please let me stay,

and maybe it's okay to fall.

these days, 

i feel that scene too well.

life has been 

merciless.

humbling in ways that make you kneel.

good health,

that i didn't thank enough for,

stolen by a random wednesday morning.

my mind, 

once a quiet place i could trust,

now stitched together with pills,

doctor's notes,

and trembling prayers.

the will to live,

that fragile thing i spent years rebuilding,

slipped away again.

and this time,

i can't chase it.

i don't have any strength.

i tell people i'm okay now.

and maybe i am.

okay enough to stop asking why.

okay enough that my parents don't have to drive home

to find me breathlessly sobbing on the living room floor.

okay enough that my brother hugs me without that pity look in his eyes.

okay enough that my uncle doesn't rushes over to my house when nobody's home,

to make sure i am still breathing.

okay enough to stop everyone from worrying about me.

but i am scared.

oh god, 

i'm so,

so scared.

because sometimes

it feels like its enough,

this trying, 

this staying,

this endless ache

of holding on

by one trembling finger.

and that thought,

wrecks me.

it breaks me in ways,

i can't even name.

trembling,

aisha.