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Dear me, Little me, Quiet me
The me who learned how to read a room before she learned how to read herself
I can see you clearly now
Standing quietly in spaces you were never meant to stand alone in
Holding secrets too heavy for your small hands to carry
Learning how to be a good girl before you ever learned how to be safe
You didn't imagine it; I can remember it exactly how it was
The way your body tensed up when their voices got too loud
The way your smile became your armor
The way you learned how to disappear without leaving the room
You were just a child
And still the world asked you to be braver than the adults around you
I know all about the moments you couldn't name
The boundaries that were crossed before you knew you were allowed to have any
The gazes and touches that lingered too long
The words that cut deeper because they came from people who should have protected you
The silence that followed your truth because, no one was healed enough to see your pain
I know about being talked about and talked over
About being invisible and dismissed
Being told you were too much and not enough at the same time
Being taught early that your voice was only welcome when it was convenient for others
I know about the racism you experienced before your language had colors
The stares and hushed whispers
The assumptions
The way your excellence was questioned
The way your anger was policed
The way you learned to shrink so others could stay comfortable
I know about the sexism that taught you to soften your no's
To smile through discomfort
To carry emotional weight that was never yours to hold
To earn love instead of expecting it
See I know all about the abandonment
The kind that left you without warning
The kind that stayed but never showed up
The kind that teaches you to overachieve in hopes of finally being chosen
I know about those verbal wounds that didn't leave bruises but echoed in your body for years
Words that followed you into mirrors that shattered before you could even see
Into relationships where trauma became the only bond
And those moments where confidence should have lived but rarely thrived
I know about the feelings that come with neglect
Being left to figure things out too soon
Becoming independent out of necessity
Being your own superhero because nobody else was coming to save you
Learning to self soothe because no one else did
I know how early you learned to make yourself smaller
How you swallowed tears because there was no space to cry
How you became the strong one, 'cause no one taught you it was okay to fall apart
And how long you held your breath because you simply had no room to breathe
And later
Later came new lessons in survival
Loving people who loved you halfway
Staying too long hoping love would change its mind
Giving your body to relationships that never fed your soul
Mistaking attention with affection
Confusing endurance with love
I know about being bullied
For your body
For your voice
For your softness
For your confidence
For simply existing in a world that couldn't decide what to do with you
I know about the body shaming
Learning to critique yourself before anyone else could
Covering up, holding it in
Making yourself small so no one could comment about the parts of you that were too much for them
And yeah, I know about the hair trauma too
Hands in your head that didn't ask to be there
Opinions that weren't wanted or invited
Being told it was too much
Too natural
Too wild
Too unprofessional
Too ethnic
Too, you
I know how often you were asked to change
To conform, to adjust
To shrink to make you easily digestible
I know about the nights you stayed awake for hours, questioning your worth
The mirrors you avoided
The shame that wasn't yours, but you learned to carry in your chest anyway
The moments you blamed yourself for someone else's harm
I know about the grief too
The kind nobody prepares you for
Losing people while they were still alive and breathing
Losing versions of yourself trying to keep everyone else okay
Smiling through funerals, the breakups, the betrayals
The miscarriages turned into your shattered reality
And the quiet deaths of all the dreams you never got to mourn out loud
And I know how tired you were
The kind of tired sleep can't fix
The kind that settles in your bones
The kind that comes from carrying generations of pain and calling it normal
But I want you to listen to me now
Because I'm you
The version of you who healed enough now to speak to us gently
See, you were never weak
You were just adapting
You weren't broken
You were surviving systems & relationships & cycles that were never built for your safety or your softness
And I need you to hear this clearly
Every version of you did the best she could with what she knew during the time she knew it
Nothing that happened to you took away your value
Nothing you endured made you less deserving of love
Nothing you survived disqualified you from peace
You didn't fail at healing, you were just learning it in real time
Hmm, but look at you now
Still breathing
Still becoming
Still choosing yourself even when it feels unfamiliar
You turned pain into wisdom
Silence into a powerful voice
Shame into truth
Boundaries into bridges back to yourself
And I am so proud of you for staying
For trying again
For unlearning what hurt you
For loving yourself out loud even when you were afraid
So, if you ever forget who you are
Come back to this letter
Come back to your breath
Come back to me
You survived what was meant to silence you
And baby you didn't just survive
You rose again
You healed any way
You remembered who you are with all the love we always deserved
Sincerely, the version of you who made it through