Negativity came like a nimbus cloud
behind a giant shower head.
I told myself: hold your faith instead.
You don’t control all things.
You just own your pieces.

The devil never rests.
But negativity? It expires.

So let the day start as it often does —
routine, quiet, no one’s to influence.
Let it come.
Let it teach.

First, it narrows your sight —
bias makes you look for threats
and miss the light.
Then it loops your thoughts
like a song that breaks.
Memory blurs.
Decision-making shakes.

Then it lowers your bones:
small setbacks feel like storms
you can’t outlast.
Motivation leaves.
You criticize.
You suspect.
You pull away — and wonder why they left.

Then it climbs into your blood —
cortisol, adrenaline, too much, too long.
Immunity weakens.
Blood pressure rises.
Sleep becomes a door you cannot open.
And the body remembers:
heart disease, less years,
a quiet shortening.

But I stop here.

I will not let this rise in me
and call it truth.
I will not whisper “I’m not good enough”
as my own lullaby.

Loss of meaning? I see it coming.
Anhedonia? Not today.
I break the loop.
I reclaim the stream.

Because the brain is plastic —
and I can rewire.
Gratitude. Mindfulness.
Less poison in my air.

Help exists.
And it’s real.
But nothing — nothing —
beats true love from the ones
who stay after your storm.

Not all storms are for surviving.
Some are for enduring.
And enduring is living.

Prepare for the worst.
Hope for the best.
Love without losing yourself.

That’s what stays.