You were just a kid.
That’s the first thing I need you to hear.
You were not broken.
You were not weak.
You were innocent—
and someone took advantage of that.
You didn’t have the words
for what was happening.
You didn’t even know what lines could be crossed
until someone stepped over them.
You froze.
You felt the shift.
But you couldn’t name it.
So you tucked it away
deep enough to keep breathing.
And that was not failure.
That was survival.
I know you blamed yourself.
I know you wondered if you imagined it.
If you let it happen.
If being quiet made it real.
But none of this was your fault.
You were groomed to be unsure.
You were made to question your gut.
That confusion was not weakness—
it was the smoke from someone else's fire.
And now?
Now you remember.
And I am here, older, louder,
with hands that only hold you gently.
You are not *****
You are not broken.
You are not what he did.
You are still that girl
with wonder in her chest.
With light behind her fear.
You survived in silence—
but you do not have to stay there.
I’ve got you now.
We’re safe.
And he can’t take anything else.
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 10:15 PM UTC
“You’re just naturally smart.”
God, if I had a dollar
for every time someone said that
like it was a compliment
and not an erasure.
Like I didn’t stay up until 2 a.m.
rewriting the same sentence
until it stopped sounding stupid.
Like I don’t study so hard
my head aches
and my hands shake
and still—
I ask if it’s enough.
You see the A.
You don’t see the anxiety attack
that came with it.
You think I’m blessed.
I think I’m breaking.
But I smile.
I nod.
I wear the ******* mask
handed to me years ago.
You know the one—
polished, polite,
never tired, never slipping.
God forbid I admit it’s hard.
God forbid I’m human.
Because when people think you’re gifted,
they stop giving grace.
No praise.
No comfort.
Just more pressure.
Higher bars.
Climbing higher and higher until you drop
Silence when you succeed—
disappointment when you don’t.
And what makes me furious?
It’s not even the work.
It’s the way no one sees it.
No one wants to see it.
Because if I struggle,
it ruins the story they’ve built about me—
and that’s not allowed.
So I keep my mouth shut.
I play the part.
I ace the test.
I burn out quietly.
And they call it effortless.
But one day,
I will set this mask on fire.
Watch it melt into the truth
you refused to see.
I am not effortless.
I am not lucky.
I am not your idea
of perfection.
I am the hours you ignore.
The fight you never saw.
The storm behind the stillness.
And I’m done shrinking
just to keep you comfortable.
If you won’t see my work,
then you don’t deserve my wins.
From now on,
I’ll take up space—
loud, flawed, brilliant.
Human.
And I will not apologize
for the fire
that made me me.
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 9:58 PM UTC