I know you’re tired.
Not the kind of tired sleep fixes,
but the kind that weighs on your chest,
presses on your spirit,
makes every breath feel like a negotiation.
You’ve been walking through storms
pretending it’s just rain,
smiling when your heart’s been breaking quietly,
and somehow still showing up
when the world forgot to ask how you’ve been.
I see you.
The pain behind the “I’m fine,”
the silence between your sighs.
You’ve been carrying too much,
trying to heal in a world
that keeps cutting open the same wounds.
But listen,
You are not your worst days.
You are not your trauma, your scars, or the lies your mind repeats
when the room goes dark.
You are something divine,
the kind of soul that makes broken things beautiful again.
You’ve made it through every single night you thought would end you—
that’s strength, not luck.
And I need you to know,
you’re not alone in this fight.
Even if it feels like no one understands,
somebody out here does.
Somebody’s praying for you right now.
Somebody loves you, even when you can’t love yourself.
You don’t have to be perfect to be worth saving.
You don’t have to be happy to be loved.
You just have to stay.
Stay long enough to see what peace feels like.
Stay to find out what laughter sounds like
when it doesn’t hide pain behind it.
Stay for the sunrise that doesn’t hurt to look at.
Your story ain’t over.
You’re still being written,
and you’re the kind of chapter that changes lives.
So breathe, love.
Let the tears fall if they need to.
Let the weight drop for a minute.
And when you can’t find your reason,
borrow mine,
because I believe in you.
I believe the world is softer with you in it.
And I’m glad you’re still here.
Stay.
Dedicating this to Marcus Claxton, my childhood best friend.
Although he took his own life, his spirit still lives within me.
I miss him deeply and love him even more today than I did when we were kids.
