I hope you’ve found peace—the kind that sinks into your bones.
Not the performative kind. Not the fleeting, fabricated, filtered kind. Real peace. The kind that doesn’t require explaining or proving. The kind that exists even on quiet days. Especially on quiet days.
I hope you still speak gently to yourself. That you’ve made a home inside your own skin. That the war in your mind has softened, even if it still whispers sometimes.
I hope you laugh more. Not because things are always easy, but because you’ve learned how to find light in the cracks. I hope your joy feels earned. Because it is.
I hope you’ve let go of needing to be understood by everyone. I hope you no longer shrink to be digestible. That you’ve stopped apologizing for your intensity, your emotions, your voice.
I hope you’ve forgiven yourself. Truly. Not because you were wrong, but because you’ve carried enough.
I hope you remember the girl who almost didn’t make it—but did. I hope you honor her every time you choose to stay.
And if, by chance, you’re struggling again—if the shadows creep back in, if the silence grows loud—please remember:
You’ve been here before.
And you found your way out.
You can again.
And I still believe in you.
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