This piece captures perfectly the lived texture of despair without trying to prettify it. The storm imagery is consistent and physical, the bloody heels, the thorns, the thunder swallowing your voice, and it makes the helplessness feel real, not abstract. I also like that you refuse the easy “it gets better” script and instead write from honesty, then end on movement: still walking, still here, still pushing through the wind. That final line comes like hard-earned survival.