Author’s Note

This poem is a reflection on the long, quiet war I’ve carried inside my mind for most of my life. I wrote this piece as an acknowledgment of survival—not as a victory march, but as a tired, honest admission that I’m still here. Depression and anxiety are battles most people never see, but if you’re fighting them too, I hope this reminds you that surviving is a form of defiance. You’re not alone, and your existence—even in the hardest moments—is a testament to your strength.

I Survive (I’m Alive)
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I stand in the midst of a battlefield—
not literal, but metaphor.
And I still struggle to see
what this struggle is even for.
There is a war raging in my head,
between the voice that wants to live
and the voice that wants me dead.

That was me at sixteen.
Now I’m thirty-five—
still wondering how I’m even alive.
And though I’ve fought like hell,
I’m not doing well.
Yet I survive.
Even when I don’t thrive,
I’m alive.

Alive in spite of
years of internal torment.
So go on—
tell me I’m going to hell
for the way I live.
I’ll face eternal torment
with a smile on my face;
I’ve lived it already.

Next year, I’ll be thirty-six.
Six. Six.
They say I’m evil in my ways,
that even the devil
wouldn’t praise.
But that’s okay—
because I’m mentally sick.
Sick. Sick.

Depression.
Anxiety.
They are the rot
inside of me.
I see them with clarity.
I don’t need
your pity or charity.

I just need patience,
and understanding—
but you won’t give it,
because you’ve never lived it.
So how could you?
How could you understand
what it’s like
to both want to live
and to die
at the same time,
in the same breath?

But I won’t leave.
I won’t shed this flesh.
I’ve made promises.
I promised…
I’m not going anywhere.

Looking for more poetry? You can find it all in the Library of Ashes.