Survival mode is my area code

Previously

…I might not have a roof over my head, or a warm meal waiting for me, but I had something more profound. I had resilience. I had an eye for beauty in the most desolate corners. I had a spirit that refused to be extinguished, a defiant flame that burned brightly against the encroaching gloom. The city was my canvas, my pain my poem, and my survival, a silent anthem sung in the language of resilience. I was not unscathed, but I was unbroken. And in that, I found my power. The ruby shard pulsed in my hand, a tiny, perfect promise, as the first hint of dawn began to paint the sky, another day, another victory, another verse in my survivor's song.