A semicolon isn’t just a mark on a page, it’s the breath you take when the air is too heavy. A pause, a halt not the end, not a stop.
In the grammar of survival, it stands where a full stop almost lived. Fighting to keep your story from being cut short. A quiet rebellion, just your life, just your presence. A silent reminder of each time you fought, fought to replace your fullstops with one less final. A semi-colon is not loud but is confident, It is small but represents a big choice. Fingers wrapped around the railing, ready to let go, till we changed the sentence. Instead of an end, it’s a continuation. Not always a certain and convincing one but a continuation regardless. The semicolon whispers, your story isn’t over, there’s more to be written.
For all those fighting to get through each day, for hearts bruised by trauma, for brains that feel broken, for souls who have stood at the edge of goodbyes. The semi colon declares just loud enough:
I am still here.
Still here not because the pain surrendered, but because I never did.