Between Heartbeats & Hospital Beeps
Today I devoured a slice of pizza in this sterile hospital bed  , forcing a smile while machines screamed their endless rhythm.
Some mornings I wake up light, almost free.

Others crash like lead into my ribs—16 years old, and my life is no longer laughter, late-night texts, or weekend dreams… but blood draws, scan results, and the suffocating wait that steals my breath.
Yet I fight.
I celebrate the fierce little victories: one clear scan, a night without pain, a real laugh that breaks through the tears.
I’m still here. Still hoping. Still breathing.

If these words find you—please—send me your quiet strength. A whispered prayer. A spark of light. Anything.
Because right now, your hope might be the only thing keeping my heart beating.