I wear a safety pin on my necklace,
Not for looks, not for its appearance and not for just in case
I wear it for its presence
For the comfort of knowing that it\'s always going to be there
Its metal is always cold, hugging me in its embrace
I wear it to remind me that on a day a year ago, I made a promise to a friend.
A promise that no matter how hard it gets
That no matter how much pain or agony I\'m in
That no matter what my mind and body want to do
That no matter how close or how far I get
I will still breathe
And even though we have since parted ways, I still wear it
The promise stayed when they left
Even when everything left, it still stayed
I don\'t wear it because it saved me, even if it did in some ways
I wear it because I remember
I remember how close everything came to falling apart
And I remember how small that place between staying and leaving felt
I remember how heavy and loud and ever-present silence can become
When silence is the only thing you can trust
When the safety pin on my necklace was the only thing I could trust
The only thing I could trust never to leave
There were days when its weight didn\'t feel like a promise I had to keep
Rather, something I was too exhausted to break
To exahausted think about
Too exhausted to question
That was too heavy to let go
So it stayed
And it stayed as the one thing I felt was certain
I never truly told anyone why I wore it or how much I depended on it for survival
I never told anyone how something so small and mundane
Became the only thing that never felt temporary
Because people changed
Because people left
Because people and feelings vanished with no explanation
But the metal stayed
It stayed resting against my skin
Cold and steady in a world of unsteadiness
It stayed as my one piece of certainty
I wear it to remind me how close I came to closing that space between staying and leaving
Because it\'s been 4 months,
Just over 17 weeks,
120 days,
2,904 hours,
And 200, 000 minutes
Since that space nearly closed
And through all that, the safety pin stayed securely on my necklace
I don\'t think anyone realises how long and hard 120 days can be,
until you have to live every single one of them,
Because 120 days isn’t just a number
It’s 120 mornings that didn’t feel wanted
120 nights that didn’t feel finished
120 times choosing to stay
And 120 days where the only thing you\'re trying to do is make it to the next hour,
without thinking too much about the last one
Because 120 days don’t just pass normally
not when everyone of them feels heavier than the last
not when every breath is a struggle
Not when every \" I\'m fine” hides the pain I fought tirelessly to keep hidden.
And somewhere in all of that
I stopped expecting things to get better suddenly
I stopped caring
I stopped truly smiling
I stopped feeling
And I stopped truly living
I just learned how to sit with the pain
How to let the silence exist without trying to fight it.
How to stay without calling it a strength
How to hide it all behind a “I\'m fine”
The safety pin stayed.
The promise stayed
The silence stayed
The memories stayed
They stayed when the voices faded
They stayed when the days blurred together
They stayed even when I didn’t know if I would
And somehow
I stayed too
Because after that
Living didn’t feel like the way it used to
It just felt like surviving quietly
One hour at a time
And the only thing that never changed
Was the safety pin
Still cold
Still certain
Still reminding me of the promise I made
And sometimes that was all the promise meant
Not strength
Not bravery
Just something that stayed
When everything else felt uncertain
Maybe one day I’ll stop wearing it
When the promise feels less fragile
When breathing no longer needs reminding
But today it still rests against my skin
Cold and steady
Like a small piece of certainty
In a world that rarely stays