Dear Me,
the one with trembling hands
and a heart that cracked like old porcelain,

I remember you.
How you stood in the silence,
shoulders full of thunder
and no one ever heard the storm.

You thought surviving was shameful
as if breathing through the wreckage
wasn't a kind of bravery.
You wore your pain
like it was your fault
instead of your badge.

But let me tell you what I know now:
you were never weak for breaking.
You were strong
for not staying shattered.

I saw how you buried your cries
in late-night ceilings
and learned to smile
with a mouth full of splinters.
That wasn’t failure
that was endurance.

I wish I could’ve held your hand then.
Not to fix you—
you weren’t broken beyond repair.
Just to remind you:
even dim stars still shine,
and every breath you took
was proof of a future forming.

Look at us now.
We are softer,
but never smaller.
We are whole—
not because we never fell apart,
but because we stitched the pieces
with patience,
and wore the scars like art.

Thank you
for not letting go.
Thank you
for being the roots
when everything else was wind.

With love,
—The You Who Made It

Depression isn’t always tears and empty bottles.
Sometimes, it’s brushing your teeth and feeling like that was too much.
It’s staring at a wall for hours and calling it rest.
Its smiling so no one asks what’s wrong, because you don’t even know what to say.

It’s nog sadness.
It’s less.
Less feeling.
Less colour.
Less will.
Less you.

You wake up already tired.
You go to bed hoping you won’t wake up.
You function, but its mechanical.
smiling like you’re on autopilot, nodding through conversations.
You cancel plans saying this a headache.
You reply late,
Then feel guilty.
But even guilt takes too much energy.

They say,
“Just talk to someone”
But how do you explain a sadness that doesn’t  have a reason?
How do you open your mouth and describe the way it hurts to just be alive?
So you say,
“I’m fine”
Over and over, until it sounds like your name.

If you relate,
If this feels too close,
Please know it’s not your fault.
You’re not broken.
You’re not weak.
You’re carrying something no one else can.
And even if it feels endless,
Even if you can’t see light right now.

Youre still here.
And that means something.
You mean something.

It doesn’t always look like crying.
Sometimes it’s just silence that stays too long.
It’s the half-smile,
The “I’m fine”
That sounds just convincing enough to stop the questions.

And when you finally slip,
They say,
“They should’ve said something”
“I didn’t know it was that bad”
“Why didn’t they just ask for help?”
But help starts to feel like guilt.
Like handing your pain to someone who’s already got their own.

So you stay quiet.
You try.
Until you can’t anymore.

People light candles for a soul they never saw burning.
And just like that,
you become
Important.
Valuable.
Tragic.
Because people only care once you’re gone.

So if you’re here,
Still breathing,
Still hurting.
Let this be proof
That your silence is speaking.
That someone is listening.
That even on the days you feel invisible,
You are not

Please stay.

Its the answer I’ve rehearsed,
The shield I raise without thinking.
Three words stacked like bricks between me and the world.
Because if I say more,
If I let the cracks show.
They might fall through.
And then I’d have to explain
why my heart feels heavy,
Why my mind wont stop spinning,
Why the silence inside me is louder than any noice outside.

So I say,
“I’m fine”
Like a broken record,
Like a lie I tell myself first.

It’s easier this way,
to tuck the storm away,
To hide the pain behind a smile,
To keep the floodgates closed.

But sometimes, in the quiet, when no one’s watching those words echo back at me.
A hollow, Empty promise that doesn’t mean a thing.
Because inside,
Im not fine.
Not really.

But the world doesn’t need to know that.
So I say it again,
Softly,
As prayer,
As a lie,

“I’m fine.”

Music isn’t just noice, it’s a language my soul already speaks.
The first thing that ever made sense when nothing else did.
I don’t just listen to it.
I feel it.
Let it wrap around my ribs like a lifeline when my mind starts drowning itself at 2 a.m.

It silences the thoughts that won’t shut up.
It fills the room so my fear can’t echo back at me.

When the world is too much, music makes it just enough.
Some songs hit like memories I never lived.
Others sound like truths I never said out loud.
They make me cry without warning,
Smile without reason,
Feel something when I’ve been numb for days.

It connects us.
Strangers across oceans singing the same lyrics with tears in their eyes.
People who’ve never met still get it,
Because the melody said what words never could.

Music is my safe place.
My freedom.
My heartbeat when mine is off-beat.

I need it
Without it,
I’m just static