I Made It Through

[ Lyrics ]

Not by luck — by fight.

Stage lights warm on my skin, not like the ones in my head,
where every shadow had a name and every silence bled.
I stood there, froze mid-line, forgot the words I wrote in pain,
laughed it off like it was nothing — guess the healing’s real, not fake.
Someone shouted, 'We still love you!' — didn’t sound like lies,
I looked down, saw my hands steady, not clenched in nighttime cries.
Used to rehearse these songs like armor, line by line, exact,
now I sing 'em like confessions — and I mean every damn fact.

The past still talks, but it’s quieter now,
in the shape of a scar, not a vow.
No more trembling when your name slips through,
just a pause… then I keep on.

I made it through — not by luck, by fight,
not by prayers in the dead of night,
but by showing up when I wanted to run,
by rewriting the war into one I’d won.
I made it through — soft skin, cracked soul,
by finally filling my own cup whole.
Yeah, I broke — but I rebuilt right.
I made it through.

Backstage, she’s waiting — hoodie up, same smirk from tenth grade,
the one who never vanished, the one who stayed.
She hands me water, says, 'You paused — and they leaned in,'
'Not because you faltered, but 'cause you’re real again.'
We don’t talk about the aftermath, the screenshots, all the lies,
we talk about that boy in chemistry who made you cry,
and how we filmed fake music videos in her basement, dreaming loud —
before the world got heavy, before the trust ran out.

She doesn’t say 'I told you so,'
doesn’t ask if the pain’s still true.
Just says, 'You’re glowing in a different way —
like you’re yours again today.'

I made it through — not by luck, by fight,
not by silence, not by flight,
but by tearing down the script they gave,
and learning how to breathe my name.
I made it through — scars like seams,
holding together all my dreams.
Not unbroken — just reborn right.
I made it through.

It wasn’t grace that pulled me out,
it was grit, and doubt, and long blackouts.
It was deleting drafts of angry songs,
and choosing peace when I still had a tongue.
It was therapy bills, studio locks,
and learning love ain’t something you lose — it’s something you won’t block.
And the girl who once begged for a sign?
She’s standing here — and the sign was time.

I made it through — not by luck, by fight,
not by fading, not by spite,
but by writing every truth I knew,
and singing it like I meant to.
I made it through — crownless, clean,
the strongest version I’ve ever been.
Not unscarred — just finally wise.
I made it through.

Yeah… I made it through.

Not by luck.

By fight.