Chapter 17: What I’d Tell You

If I could sit across from you—the version of you that’s hurting, doubting, spiraling—I wouldn’t offer clichés. I wouldn’t tell you to think positive or to be strong.

I’d tell you this:

You are not too much.

You are not broken.

You are not alone.

I know it doesn’t always feel like that. I know some nights feel endless and some mornings feel impossible. I know how heavy silence can be. How loud the lies in your head can scream.

But I also know what it’s like to still be here.

To breathe through the ache. To cry and not be ashamed. To ask for help and not apologize.

I’d tell you that your story matters—even the chapters you wish you could rip out. Especially those.

I’d tell you that needing help doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.

That healing doesn’t mean erasing the past. It means learning how to carry it differently.

That there is no timeline for this. No “right” way. Just your way.

And that’s enough.

I’d tell you that staying is brave. That soft is strong. That your pain is real, and so is your resilience.

I’d tell you that even if you don’t believe any of this yet, I’ll hold the truth for you until you can.

Because I’ve been there.

And you’re not alone—not anymore.