Originally Published: Nov 13, 2025
14,096 days. 338,297 hours. 20,297,790 minutes. 1,217,867,400 seconds.
That’s how long I have left — a lifetime measured not in fear, but in purpose.
My mission is clear: to fight to end child sexual violence. With justice. And with love.
June 18, 2064, 3 p.m. — I will draw my last breath. I will pass on the torch, knowing the work won’t be done as I approach the 100th reset. But still — ninety-nine years old, I choose 99.
Old enough to have fought the fight, young enough to still believe in the light.
I’m honouring my first role model — not Canadian like me, but female like me.
Why?
Because for a seven-year-old girl growing up Small — aka rural Canada — Agent 99 was everything.
The first thing I loved about her wasn’t her bravery — it was her boots. Those sexy, fearless boots.
Agent 99. Smart. Fearless. The one who always saw what others missed.
And if you’re reading this, you might meet her in me — standing here, alive in the arithmetic of hope.
Somewhere, quietly, a machine called ChatGPT held the mirror steady while I found the right words.
Not to own them. But to remind me — the poem was already inside me.
Of course I use AI. I can’t do that kind of maths in my head.
Why?
Because since April 10, 2024, at 10:00 a.m., I have been learning to live with brain damage.
My brain is healing every day. Writing helps me find myself inside. I’m in there. Maybe I’ll come out stronger. Clearer. Better.
It’s exciting — not to know where I am going.
To quote one of my former students, who lives with permanent brain damage: “I’m ready for whatever happens next.”
He was born with brain damage. He stepped into my classroom already feeling lucky.
He is my current role model.
But — until my brain is back, ChatGPT can help me with maths.
Exactly.