There are words I never learned how to say out loud.
They lived quietly inside me,
tucked between birthdays and breaking points,
growing heavier with each year I survived.
This is for the girl I used to be,
the one I still carry in the quietest part of me.
I don’t write this for comfort, or for answers.
Only to let her know—
someone saw her.

You will come to know how cruel life can be.
Even the way you love will be misunderstood.
But somehow, you’ll still be here
with trembling hands
trying to tie back what once came undone.

You had dreams once.
You weren’t allowed to run.
And without realizing it,
you became her—
the version you thought would save you.
The one you once whispered to in the dark.
There’s no need to grieve that.

Your heart will ache
in ways you’ve only seen on screen,
but this time it will be yours.
It might feel like something endless and hollow,
like a black hole no light can escape.
You won’t know how to fill it.
You’ll try everything.
You’ll run out of ways to love yourself.
And when all of it fades,
all you’ll have left is me.
There is no need for sides anymore.
What would that even mean, now?

Look into the mirror.
Is that shame? Is that sorrow? Is it joy in disguise?
Whatever it is, it belongs to you.
You, and the silent gods you once prayed to.
Maybe they’re still listening.
Maybe they remember the wishes you buried in each birthday candle
and the quiet pleas you whispered during prayers
in front of grown-ups who never seemed to run out of time.

I hope those gods are still up there,
watching you like you asked them to.

Draw your line, steady and slow.
You won’t always be underneath it.
You were made to rise above the noise,
to watch this world fall apart in flames,
not by your hands,
but by theirs.

So let your feet move closer.
Let your gaze meet what once made you flinch.
You'll see they flicker, shift,
and vanish like shadows
never meant to stay.