This photo… it’s raw, honest, and a little scary, I know. This is what I look like now, on the outside, after so much struggle. A little swollen, with purple marks that tell stories of intense treatments, and this tiredness that seems to have become my companion. And this thumbs-up?

There was a time when I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. I would stand there, staring, trying to find the old me. The one who laughed easily, who made plans without fear, who didn’t think about hospitals, needles, or surgeries. That person feels so far away now. Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever be that person again.

And yet… I am still here.

This thumbs-up you see in the photo… it looks strong, doesn’t it? Like I’m saying, “I’m okay. I can handle this.” But the truth is different. This thumbs-up is something I give to others more than to myself. It is for my family, so they don’t worry too much. It is for my friends, so they don’t see how scared I really am. It is my small way of protecting them, even when I feel like I need protection too.