You see me when it's too much. And you see me when the stronger version flickers through. You are patient when I struggle. You don't coddle. You don't condemn. You persist. I call it failing sometimes. My body not failing. Fighting. Doing everything it can to stay. And around me shelter. love. friendship. You. A shared meal. A shared laugh. A shared moment of drama that somehow still feels normal. You don't make me feel weak when I need help. You offer but you don't take over. You support without turning it into something I hide behind. You treat me like me. And that matters more than anything. Because if you held back the snark, the pressure, the honesty, the love then I would be failing. Instead, I persist. Not alone. A community holding me longer than logic says it should. Giving me time I thought I had already spent. That's what love looks like. I don't know how long I have. I won't guess. I won't bargain. I'll be thankful. I won't just persist. I will live for as long as I have while dying. Because dying doesn't define me. Living does.