Don’t let go of the rope,
even if it trembles in your hands
and your fingers bleed from holding on so tightly.
Don’t close your eyes,
even if the darkness screams at you
that it would be easier to sleep forever.
Breathe.
Breathe even when the air feels heavy,
when it burns inside your chest,
when every heartbeat feels
like a useless effort.
Breathe, because every breath you take
is defiance against the voice that lies,
the one that tells you you don’t matter anymore.
I know you’re hurting.
I know there are endless nights
where the ceiling feels like an enemy,
and your thoughts,
sharp knives that won’t stop falling.
I know you’ve looked in the mirror
and didn’t recognize yourself,
that you’ve felt unseen,
that you’ve wondered if anyone would even notice
if you were gone.
But I’m here,
telling you that you’re wrong,
that you do matter,
that they would notice.
That your absence would be a wound impossible to heal.
That your laughter, even dimmed now,
is a lighthouse others need
to find their way back.
Pain has tricked you
into believing you’re a burden,
that you’re too much,
that you don’t belong.
But no, my dear,
you are not too much.
The world wants you here.
I want you here.
Think of what you haven’t seen yet:
the summers waiting for you,
the smell of rain in unknown cities,
the new music that hasn’t reached your ears,
the unexpected embraces that will shatter your armor.
The stories you have yet to tell,
the tears that will turn into laughter,
the people you will meet
who, without you,
will never know the meaning of finding you.
You are not alone, even if it feels that way.
There are voices that want to hear you,
hands that want to hold you,
hearts that beat louder
simply because you exist.
Sometimes pain is so loud
it drowns out all those sounds,
but believe me:
those voices are still there,
waiting for you to lift your gaze.
Don’t go.
Stay.
Even if it’s only to see what tomorrow brings.
Maybe tomorrow won’t be perfect,
maybe it will hurt too,
but hidden in the pain are sparks,
tiny glowing moments
that are worth it.
And you deserve to live them.
Ask for help.
It isn’t shame.
It isn’t weakness.
It is the greatest proof of your courage.
The cry of someone who wants to keep going,
even if they don’t know how.
And I, and so many others,
want to hear you.
Stay, please.
Stay a little longer.
The world would be poorer without you,
colder, emptier,
more broken.
And I…
I don’t want to learn how to breathe
in air where you no longer exist.
Your story isn’t finished.
Your pages are not fully written.
And even if you think now
that there’s only emptiness at the end,
I know that in those unwritten pages
moments of beauty are waiting for you.
Let me, let us,
walk with you to find them.
Because yes, it still hurts.
Yes, it’s still heavy.
But you’re still here.
And while you are,
there is hope.