Hey,
You don’t know this yet, but one day you’ll make it through.

Right now, you’re just trying to stay afloat in a world that doesn’t seem built for you. Everything feels too loud, too fast, too uncertain. You walk through school hallways pretending you're okay, laughing when you're supposed to, nodding when someone says “you’re so mature for your age.” Inside, you’re barely holding yourself together.

If I could sit across from you now, knees pulled in, sleeves over hands, heart half-shielded, I wouldn't start with answers. I’d start with a long pause. Because I remember how tired you are of people talking at you. You wanted someone to just see you.

So I’m here to do that now. To tell you what I’ve learned; about love, about rage, and about that quiet thing inside you that never gave up, even when everything else did.

Love: It’s Not Always Soft, and It’s Not Always Safe

You think love is supposed to save you. That if you just wait long enough, someone will come along who understands every broken part of you and puts them back together like a puzzle. You think being chosen means being whole.

But here’s the truth: love doesn’t always come wearing a cape. Sometimes it comes in the form of friends who check in when you’ve gone quiet. Sometimes it’s a stranger’s kindness on a day you were thinking of giving up. And sometimes, love is learning to be alone on a Friday night and still feeling okay.

You’ll get your heart broken. You’ll give too much of yourself to people who only know how to take. You’ll cry into your pillow trying to understand what you did wrong. The answer is: nothing. You were just trying to love the best way you knew how. That’s brave.

One day, you’ll stop searching for someone to complete you. You’ll become whole on your own. And when someone loves you then, truly loves you,it’ll feel like sunlight, not survival.

Rage: You’re Allowed to Be Angry

I know you’re angry. I know you’ve been taught to hide it, to smile when it hurts, to stay quiet when something isn’t fair, to swallow your pain like it won’t eat you alive from the inside.

But I want you to know : your rage is valid. Your anger is the part of you that knows you deserve better. It’s the signal that something is wrong. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re too emotional. You feel deeply: that’s your power, not your flaw.

You don’t have to explode, and you don’t have to pretend. There’s a middle ground. You’ll find it one day. You’ll write. You’ll scream into the wind. You’ll paint, or run, or sing until your throat aches. And it’ll feel like breathing again.

You’ll learn that rage can be fuel. You’ll use it to stand up for yourself. You’ll use it to protect others. You’ll use it to build a life no one thought you could have. That fire in you? Keep it. Just learn how to hold it without getting burned.

Resilience: You’re Strong, But You Don’t Have to Be Every Day

They call you strong because you don’t cry in front of people. Because you keep going. Because you fake a smile so well they don’t bother to look closer. But I know the truth: sometimes, being strong just means surviving one more night without breaking.

Let me tell you this: strength isn’t pretending you’re okay. Strength is choosing to stay. Strength is saying, “I’m not fine, but I’m still here.” Strength is picking up the pieces of yourself every morning and trying again.

You don’t have to earn rest. You don’t have to prove your pain. You’re allowed to be soft. You’re allowed to fall apart. The world won’t end if you let someone in.

And when you finally begin to heal: slowly, painfully, beautifully, you’ll realize something: you were never weak for hurting. You were always strong for surviving.

Final Thought: You Make It. And You’re Worth It.

There will be moments where the darkness feels endless. Where you wonder if the pain is permanent. But I promise you: it isn’t. Life doesn’t suddenly get easier, but you get better at handling it. The light returns in pieces: a laugh you didn’t fake, a hug that feels safe, a morning where you don’t dread waking up.

One day, you’ll look back at 16-year-old you and cry: not because she was broken, but because she kept going when no one was watching. You’ll wish you could hold her. You’ll be proud of her.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll finally whisper, “I love you” to the girl who needed to hear it most.