To anyone who's still here,
You know who you are.
You're the one who's weathered storms that never made the news, fought invisible battles, and spent more time filling out forms than anyone could imagine. Maybe you've watched systems fail you, watched doors close, and learned to spot the cracks in every process — because you live in them.
If you're reading this, you're probably "that person." The one who doesn't fold when it's easier to walk away. The one who stays in the room after everyone else has gone quiet. The one who knows that sometimes, just surviving another day is an act of rebellion.
I've been there.
Hell, I am there.
I've lost count of the number of times I've been told I don't belong, that I don't fit the criteria, or that the rules don't make room for someone like me. And I've learned that sometimes, real change doesn't start with policy updates or well-meaning emails — it starts when someone says, "Sorry, running late," and refuses to leave the hill, no matter how many times the Reaper comes knocking.
If you're tired, I see you.
If you feel invisible, I hear you.
If you feel like you're always the canary in the coalmine, always the "smoke test" for broken systems, always the one waving the flag for justice, inclusion, or just basic decency — know that you're not alone.
Let me tell you what I've learned:
- You aren't broken just because the system is.
Surviving isn't failing. Your resilience is the proof that something better is possible. - Your scars are stories.
They aren't marks of defeat, but reminders of every battle you've outlasted, every day you showed up when it would've been easier not to. - Your advocacy matters, even if it feels pointless.
Every survey, every new “awareness” month, every policy shift — even if they're imperfect — are ripples you helped create. - It's okay to be tired.
It's okay to rest. It's okay to laugh about it, too. Humor isn't defeat, it's survival.
Some days, you might feel like your only superpower is being "too stubborn to quit." On those days, remember:
You are the smoke test.
You're the reason the alarms went off.
You're the reason someone, somewhere, is going to have an easier time tomorrow — even if you never get credit for it.
The world needs people who show up and tell the truth about what isn't working, who don't let the system off the hook, who keep running late for the Reaper because they're too busy building something better.
So to you, still here, still standing on your own impossible hill:
Don't apologize for surviving.
Don't apologize for being a little late — especially if it's to your own funeral.
As for me? I'm still here, chalk in hand, marking one more day, one more sunrise, one more tally on the wall.
And if the Reaper comes around,
just tell him:
"Sorry, running late!"
Keep going.
We're all better for it.
Cole