I'm still alive. At this point it begins to count as surviving. Surviving is what I do.
I don't know why. Everyone who wakes up each day survives. I endure far less than many others, but somehow people look at me as a survivor. They know I will cope. I always have. Somehow I get by and find a way. So you can trust that I'll survive.
Every day I continue to survive is another day I continue to fail.
I cannot express how much surviving represents failure to me. The cast on my arm that practically screams it at me doesn't do much to help that association. It's impossible for me to consider one-day-at-a-time or moment-by-moment any kind of achievement because it so obviously represents everything I despise. I survive because I do not have the resources to do otherwise. I would very much like to succeed.