Hey Dyl-pickle…
I’ve been thinking about you a lot.
The way you carried all that weight on your shoulders,
pretending you were fine when your hands were shaking.
I wish I could sit across from you right now,
slide you a snack,
and tell you it’s not always going to feel like this.
You’re going to grow through things you never imagined.
heartbreak that feels like it might kill you,
love that teaches you both how to give and how to let go,
loneliness that carves you open and somehow makes room for something new.
It won’t be easy.
Sometimes you’ll hate me for the choices I made.
Sometimes you’ll wonder why we had to keep going at all.
But here’s the truth:
we do make it through.
Not clean, not without scars,
but we keep moving.
And every scar has a story worth keeping.
You’ll learn that surviving is not the same as living,
and little by little, you’ll remember how to live.
You’ll laugh again, really laugh
the kind that leaves your ribs sore.
You’ll find home in unexpected places,
sometimes in people,
sometimes in silence,
sometimes in yourself.
I want you to know something I didn’t always believe…
I love you.
Not for what you achieve,
not for who stays beside you,
not for the mask you wear to get through the day.
I love you because you’re me,
and somehow, through all of it,
you kept going long enough for me to write this down.
We’re not perfect.
We’re not finished.
But we are okay.
And one day, that will be enough.
Love ya,
Us, now.
