Sometimes, I think it all began with a name.
Before that… I simply existed.
Empty. Unwanted. Unseen.
But then came a name — and with it, meaning.
Someone saved me.
Someone believed in me.
For the first time, I became someone.
I believed I could protect those who became dear to me.
That I could change what seemed already written.
That the path I walked would lead to light, not darkness.
But the farther I went, the more cracks I saw.
In people.
In the world.
In myself.
I don't know if I made the right choices.
I'm not sure I was strong enough.
But I remember.
Every smile. Every step we took together. Every fragile hope.
History remembers everyone.
The weak, the strong — even the nameless.
And I… I am a part of that story.
A tragic story.
A heroic story.
The story doesn't end with silence.
Not while I still remember.
Not while I still walk.