I know you don’t think so right now, but you’ll survive the next four years. You’ll do so much more than that.
I remember the last big trip to Walmart the weekend before my first semester and how surreal everything felt. As I wandered through endless aisles of school supplies and bedspreads, I wondered how I would ever live on my own. The thought of living so far from home tied my stomach in queasy knots.
I remember saying goodbye to my family by saying “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast,” because it was easier than saying “I’ll see you in three months.” After we all hugged, I trudged to the dorm and didn’t look back, even though it was all I wanted to do. My elevator ride to the seventh floor was the longest elevator ride ever.
I remember my first night in my dorm room, as I sat in the dark. Anxiety raked my mind so sharply I couldn’t even cry, even though I wanted to. It haunted me when I woke up for class, and followed me to every single subject. I could barely answer questions when I was called on to do so.
I especially remember that first Thursday as I walked to lunch. The past several days weighed on my heart like three years—three years of an anxious fight for survival. I was on the phone with my family, and I hung on to their every word like a lifeline. My legs could no longer support the weight of the world on my shoulders, so I found a bench and sat down.
My mom’s voice chirped on the other end of the line. “Are you gonna be okay?”
Amidst my own worries, I had never asked myself that question. Would I be okay? Could I do this? Or was it really too much for me? I took a deep breath and collected myself.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” For the first time, in a small corner of my soul, I believed it.
I remember hanging up the phone shortly after that, and slowly getting up from that bench to go to lunch. As I walked, I noticed how green the leaves were on the trees overhead and the lush grass. Anxiety loosened its grip on my mind with each step.
So much beauty, love, and laughter would have been lost if I had given up on college before it even started. I survived that afternoon before lunch, and I can promise you, I more than survived the next four years. In fact, I don’t know if I could have survived without them.

The mistakes you have made
Need to seem foreign to me.
It’s not who I am.
It’s not my identity.
You lived in a warzone from the very start.
Lies spoken over you like a
Burning arrow to your heart.
Let the lies fade
And in peaceful
Waters wade.
Let your lighthearted soul
Shine forth and ring true
Be the person you know you are
but never knew.
For you are enough. I combat those lies. With your Dad you cut all ties.
See you are more than enough. You’re strong brave and tough.
You had it rough and weren’t meant to carry their heavy stuff.
Projecting onto your heart
Should’ve been a crime.
Now let your heart sing like a beautiful wind chime.
They hated your light
For in the darkness they spewed hate.
And made this life tough and
Confusing to navigate.
But you’re not them.
You never were.
Now you’re strong, enough, and secure.
The world needs your beauty
In all of its glory.
Now bold queen come forth and share your story.
If enough had a name Jennifer would be it.
Now embrace your light
Climb put of that pit.
Love,

Dear 10th- grade me,
Moving has got to be one of the biggest heartaches you’ve felt. During your middle school years and your first year of high school, you’ve felt alone and confused. You yearn to go back, and the constant thought of “what if we never moved” plagues your mind from the first minute you’re awake. In 7th grade, you struggled with a crush on a guy who barely acknowledged your existence. In 10th grade, those feelings consumed you like deep water. You felt as if you had been drowning in your feelings and the only way to stay afloat was to make a move.
Because you felt this way, you did the only thing you felt, you had to do. You confessed and shot your shot three times. Each time you were disappointed and the bitter taste of sheer foolishness burned in the back of your throat. You were confused, and your heart ached for someone who never bothered to reciprocate your feelings. You sought closure, and instead, you got nothing but silence. Cold and unwavering silence. You still reap the consequences and the fragile confidence you once had shattered like glass. You struggle to pick up the pieces, and you suffer silently. You give too much to people who don’t deserve it. Your fragile heart craves the comfort it’ll never find in him. You don’t cry over him, or even get angry, but he still lives in your mind rent-free. Every person you meet is a blessing or a lesson in disguise. A guy who made you doubt your self worth isn’t worth all this heartache.
Besides the boy drama, you also dealt with the intense feelings of not fitting in—that what-if haunts you like a ghost behind a closed door. Every day, you imagine a different life, one where you hadn’t moved. The school atmosphere was swirling with toxicity and fakeness. And soon it took its toll on you. You stopped caring about your social life and poured your attention into your grades. Being the most intelligent person in the class gave you the confidence that you lost—piece by broken piece. Instead of seeking validation from friends, the A+ you got made you feel worth something. To your parents and to others.
Learning to love yourself is the first step in overcoming insecurities and becoming more confident. Learning how to stop caring about what other people think about you is also crucial. But this isn’t something that will happen overnight. Discovering your own self-worth is a personal journey that everyone has to go through at some point in their life. No matter how put-together someone may seem, there is always a facade and cracks under the surface. Everyone at one point in their life has felt as if they weren’t enough. However, they learned to overcome their insecurities and grow, ultimately shining brighter for the better, and you can too!
High school is like a rollercoaster. It has many emotional ups and downs, many twists and turns, and it can be unpredictable at times. But it’s important to remember that high school only takes up 4 years in your life. They can seem long and grueling, but what matters most is that you focus on yourself. Anyone talking about you behind your back reflects more about them than it does about you. You don’t have to take responsibility for other people’s immaturity. If they want to talk badly about you, that is their choice. In life, you won’t be able to please everyone or even get them to like you, but the ones that do like you will show it by being there for you and supporting you through your highs and your lows.
You’ve already made it through the first 2 years of high school and are doing a fantastic job! You may feel further behind than others but always remember: God has a plan for you and his timing is always immaculate. The last two years may seem like a long period, but before you know it, you’ll be going to college—free to make your own decisions and make new friends. Everything happens in your life for a set reason and moving turned out to be a blessing in disguise. You made new friends and discovered your passion for writing. And eventually, you’ll meet someone who’ll love you for you. They won’t make you doubt yourself, and they will prove repeatedly why they chose you, through their actions, and their words. You’ll learn to love yourself and you’ll find someone that loves you for you. All it takes is time and patience. Keep going and keep trying. I believe in you.
Sincerely
Your older Self

A feeling too familiar.

To Drift like a ghost in the wind.

Falling for false claims from those who often say.

They love me.

They support me.

They’ll be there for me. (Right)

But leave without a sound or notion of why. (Is it me?)

You blame yourself.

You try to come up with reasons on why people leave as fast as the seasons go by.

Spring, Summer, Fall & Winter.

As we enter the realm of our mind, I eagerly hear the questions.

Will I ever be enough?

Enough to be loved?

Enough to be cherished?

Enough to be heard?

Enough to be seen in a world of obscurity?

Enough to stay for?

Within me, I can see how heartbreaking the mind can be.

The gut punching facts that the mind speaks of tragedies or feelings of hurt.

They remain to remind you of memories that make you doubt yourself.

You think a good thing is a bad thing.

You think you are not good enough to feel joy or to even relish the thought of peace.

You no longer want to feel.

You want to be still.

The breakdowns severe, it feels as our hearts trying to escape your chest.

Questioning my worth, that I have worthy embedded in my skin.

Hear when I say.

Yes, you are ENOUGH.

You will loved & cherished.

The support you receive will be with no question.

The one you truly love the most will see you.

You are enough to stay for.

We are divine beings whom deserve peace, joy and love.

We Are Enough!

Ms. Sarah Ann,
I won’t write to you like a child, I know you’d laugh at it and put the letter down before the end of this sentence if I tried. Because you’re not a child, not really, not anymore. As much as you might argue with me about it, and I know you would, you still should be. You deserve to be a kid. Just because you don’t get to be doesn’t mean you deserve to grow up fast. I know you say you don’t care, but I do.
I ‘m going to be honest with you, writing this letter to you is hard. Sometimes I like to pretend everything that happened didn’t, that we’ve always been how we are today, that it didn’t take being completely unwound to be stitched into something beautiful. But that’s not fair to you, is it? You deserve to be seen. You deserve to be remembered. And so I see you. I see you in the hiding spot under your bed so all the bad things can’t touch you. I see you flinch as I hear the footsteps, see you hold your breath as he steps in the room, trying to look casual, trying not to tip anyone else off. But he can’t find you there, he’s too tall, and, later, I see your tears when no one else comes looking. I feel the knife twisting when you’re called a liar for trying to tell adults what’s happening. I hear you trying to reason with yourself, “He hasn’t been here long, maybe it’ll stop. Maybe he’ll go back and see me as a little sister. Maybe he’ll hate me. Maybe he’ll leave.” I see you carrying the mark of a medusa tattoo long before it is ever etched into your skin.
You are surviving, and you are doing it with the strength that will serve you well for the rest of your life. But that is the kind of sentence people try to comfort you with after all is said and done. The patronizing kind that insists everything has a purpose like somehow that makes everything okay. It doesn’t, and you are the only one who gets to decide if the strength formed in the fire is even a worthy consolation prize for the third degree burns. It doesn’t have to matter who this turns you into, what matters is that everything happening to you shouldn’t be. You should be allowed weakness. You should not have to get up every day at age eight as a warrior. You should be getting to make-believe being an adult with your friends, not pretending to be a child you no longer are to make the real adults happy.
And baby? It’s not your fault. And I know you repeat it to yourself nearly every night as you hide under that bed, you sing it softly in your head before you fall into nightmares, it’s a tiny whisper of hope you feel seep through your fingers like sand every time you’re screamed at, every time you’re held down, every time you’re scared to come home. It’s a plea when you say it, a beg for absolvement, a desperate attempt for someone, anyone, to recognize that this should not be happening to you. But Sarah, when I say it, it’s a fact, it is power. When I tell you right now that this is not your fault, that nothing you could’ve ever said or done would have stopped this, I’m telling you that one day that conviction will hold you gently when all you’re used to is being hurt.
And sweetheart? One day, that won’t be the only thing holding you gently. You’ll find kindness, you’ll find friends who hold your secrets like glass: softly, carefully, safely. You’ll find a boy who loves your sharp edges, who files them down with consistency, with care, with love. One day the edges being formed now won’t cut you so much. They won’t cut others either. And on days when the world feels too big and you’re eight years old again, hiding under your bed, you have people who will come and find you. Because you were always worthy of being found.

You Are More Than Enough

To the me that felt unseen, unworthy, unappreciated, unloved, not good enough, forgotten and even unhappy. I want to say to you, you do matter. You mattered then and you matter now. If I can go back in time and hold your hand. Hold that adolescent and free soul in my hand. I wish I could heal you. The version of you that desperately wanted to be understood and perceived as good enough. The me that so desperately wanted to turn myself inside out so people could see that I was who I said I was. As if I had to prove myself to these people who bread crumbed me and who are these people? People who made me feel small. The very people who counted me out. These people I so desperately wanted to be seen by.
I wish I could have been there to teach you, you are enough. Matter of fact you are more than enough. You constantly wanted to know “Why? Why this treatment? Why look at me with disgust? I’ve done nothing wrong. Why?” If I could give you an answer as to why these people will never acknowledge you, well it’s because they don’t want to see you morph and change into something new. They don’t even want to change, so why would they want that for you? I remember the times you were bullied in school, I remember the times you had to fight for yourself. I even remember the times in which you had to hold back tears of hurtful words being hurled at you from your father.
I remember all the depressive nights we spent writing and reading our woes away. I remember what we lived through. I remember who we were. But understand we have come a long way. We have looked the devil in the eyes and won the battle. All the restless nights of our parents arguing. All the sleepless nights and nightmares that followed. All the late nights of hard labor trying to afford your way through college and through life in general. I know how gut wrenching that was. But just know our faith has kept us strong. If I could give the younger me reassurance I would say that God has over floweth our cup and we don’t ever have to feel that way again.
It was a lot on the human mind to cope with but I’m glad you made it out. We didn’t have the hottest or newest fashion or the latest game console, but what we did have was a sense of self, a personality, humor, ambition, perseverance, good company and knowing who we were. All these characteristics and catastrophic events made us who we are today. The scars that we carry are a testament to how much strife we had to go through. The many people that saw something in us and wanted to snuff out our light before we even knew what we carried within us, all the days wondering whether things will change and get better, all the unspoken words you held in your throat in order to keep the peace, the resilience you showed.
Is proof enough of how strong you really were. If I could go back and speak to that child I would say, “you did a great job at staying true to yourself because all of those events were the catalyst of change.” Those restless nights, those wet rainy days with rain pitter pattering on the window. We have uplifted many people and showed others they are worthy. We turned that pain into a rhythmic flow of abundance. A symphony in our mind, a plethora of ideas. I jotted them all down and used them to fuel my creativity. The mind of a depressed child made for a life filled with character development. Yes, unfortunate events occurred but looking back on our growth we have crafted the life that we wanted.
Our scars are now a story for the unhealed and healed. If you ever wanted to know, you are enough. If I could go back in time I wouldn’t change a thing…ok maybe I wouldn’t have warmed up that leftover pork steak before catching the school bus at 6:30 am buuut look on the bright side. We lived through many days of hard labor and unfair punishment but everything happens for a reason. I didn’t think I was worthy of enjoyment. As an adult I have learned to love myself, my scars, my flaws. They make me a perfectly imperfect person and that’s the beauty of me. As a religious woman, I know I am wonderfully made. So to the younger version of me, oh I would say we are more than enough.

-Sincerely, a worthy child

The girl in the mirror felt like a shadow of who she wished to be.
For as long as she could remember, she’d hoped the girl staring back would one day be happy.
One day, she would smile—and mean it.
She would know love—and it would be real.
She would be enough—just as she was.
Accepted. Whole.
What she didn’t realize was that her hopes weren’t too far out of reach.
Years of fists and harsh words built a wall—not one others could tear down, but one only she could break.
The mirror had shown her a reflection, not her own—an illusion shaped by what others believed she was.
And each time she looked, she whispered: Eventually.
Eventually, she’d be successful.
Eventually, she’d find love.
Eventually, she’d be enough.
And then—one day—she was.
The light at the end of the tunnel appeared.
She was no longer trapped in the dark.
The girl in the mirror looked back—and this time, she saw the truth.
She was enough.
She had always been.
Eventually had finally come.

I want to hug you one more time.

I want to leave things with how we loved each other once upon a time.

I want to follow strangers on Instagram after screaming at a concert together one more time.

I want to watch horror movies and banter until dawn one more time.

I want to go to your jazz concert one more time.

I want to kiss my dog one more time.

I want to sing karaoke YouTube videos with my dad one more time.

I want to push the shopping cart while my sibling puts in cookies n cream ice cream one more time.

I want to make blueberry bagels for my neighbors one more time.

I want to drink cranberry and guava juice one more time and lay on the porch swing, listening to your memories one more time. Accompaniment composed by the birds vocalizing their frequency of residence at your fairy garden

I want to live this art that life imitates.

Naked as you came, Saturn was there.
Down the line, you’re smelling twenty-seven blown out candles, cutting the cake. Shocked to see her return. She takes a piece and I’m disoriented. Why is she dressed like this is a sleepover? Rolling in luggage with a houseplant in her other arm? She’s humming while bringing in cardboard boxes and I don’t remember giving her a birthday invitation nor will she pay rent.

And her birthday gift on your birthday to your birthday party on your birthday with a birthday gift was glass and champagne to the face.

She points at my chest and tells me to “get fucking real.”
Growing up is just removing layers and layers of iron coats nature and nurture have styled you. Of course, you never asked for them. But, you chose to be fearful AND still walk. Barefooted while others were born with boots. On rocks, unfinished cigarettes, broken concrete, broken glass. Though some have come with boots, they may have not been born with spectacles as you do. Each and everyone one of us are the same because each and every one of us are different.

The final level is the “imaginary”. Two realities where my benefits lie in optimism. Where some view it to be delusional and naive, it’s a method of survival.
I refuse to believe I am a fool to dream of a world full of love.

The magic you try to chase through fantasy and escape,
Is right in front of you.
My biggest grief was the greatest gift of clarity.
It’s no longer imaginary.
I know I am happy because I wouldn’t be able to value love without the boulder, the one whose fingers slipped from Sisyphus’ callused, bloody grip.
The serenity in accepting the push just to fall. The serenity in choosing to be happy.
“What punishments of God are not life’s greatest gifts?”
My Surrendering was my greatest victory.

I don’t want to die anymore.
I want to live.

And I will take my terrified, traumatized, horrified younger me, and hold her hand while I show her that because even if it’s all in complete darkness, It does not prove that there won’t be greater things waiting for you in the sun.

But you have to keep walking.
To come home to the sanctuary within you.

“Glad you made it safe! I’ll see you tomorrow <3”

Dear You,
Yes you. If you found this letter that means you’re finally ready to answer my question. And yes, I’m talking to you, the one who was fired from her job. The one who couldn’t keep her house together because you could hardly get out of bed. Yes, you, the one who had to stay at her best friend’s house because you didn’t feel safe alone. The one who loss weight and whose hair fell out from stress and pretending everything was okay. Yes, you. The one who literally, truly, worked her hardest to be perfect at everything…. because perfection is everything, right?
And so, you worked and worked, and you hid behind a mask, and you gave and gave KNOWING you were slowly becoming a fragment of yourself. Until you broke. Until you finally realized there was nothing else to give. Yes you, I’m talking to you. So, if you found this it means you have started writing again, maybe even working on your crafts but overall you’re doing the things that make you smile and you finally understand what those around you have been telling you; your brokenness relies in the fact that you allowed yourself to forget your strength and the strength you give others.
What you saw as broken, they saw as beautiful which is why the scoffed every time you said “I’m not enough” because for them, you have shown a strength of thousands. You may not think you are enough, but in their eyes and the eyes of a little girl who wakes up sometimes just to kiss and smile at you; you are.
So, if you’ve found this letter it means you’re finally ready to answer my question. Have we finally figured out we are much more than enough? We are the embodiment of the beauty that comes from the pain.
-Us

My dearest Natalie,

Life goes by so fast
To think at age 17
You thought you’d never last.

Adulthood seemed so forbidding
Who knew you’d go on living?
I know it’s all so tiring
So lay your head to rest.

As you look in the mirror
What do you see?
Every flaw, scar and heartache?
My dearest Natalie

Though the doors keep on shutting
And your walls are being built
I love you unconditionally
I love you, my younger self

I hold you in my arms
And tell you I’m so proud
You made it to age 24
You are strong, without a doubt

Live to see another day
I promise that it’s worth it
and always remember
There is nothing like the present

Hey, sweet girl.

It’s me. It’s you. It’s us. It’s always been us. I’ve always been here, with you, protecting you. Even when life felt scary, unsafe, confusing, unfair, or impossible. You were never alone. And you were ALWAYS enough.

But what does that even mean? What does it even feel like to Be Enough? Is such a thing possible, or are we all just faking it as much as we can to make it through the days? Are we thriving or just surviving? I know we didn’t grow up with the money or privileges others had. In high school and college, you were told you weren’t skinny enough to be a dancer. Multiple heartbreaks have left you cynical, questioning whether you’ll ever find love or be able to trust deeply again. You watched as your twin sister got married and had twins of her own, starting a fully new family right in front of your eyes. You’ve questioned your worth as a woman in this world and fought hard to take up space. And that’s just naming a few battles. Surviving it is.

Life has come at you hard, babe. Despite all that, you’re here. And I am so proud of all you’ve gone through and everything you’ve overcome. It breaks my heart, though, to see how all of that has dimmed your beautiful light just a little.

Well, I’m here to tell you that soon you will thrive in a way you never imagined possible. And not because you will have money, or your dream job, or a ring, or anything materialistic to “prove” your enoughness. But because you will thrive in a place that you believe in. A healing place. ALL the people who made you feel you weren’t enough will disappear. Their words will no longer hold weight. You finally chassé across the stage of life again with sparkle and swagger. Those traumatic memories will be a thing of the past, and you will finally see yourself the way I see you. Grounded in love, safety, and power!

Don’t be afraid, even though it is scary. Go towards it. Bravely. Just like you have gone towards everything in your life that you’ve had to fight for. And you will continue to fight for your dreams and to find love and for a life as exciting and bright as you are. But you will do it KNOWING you are more than worthy of anything and everything this life has to offer. You’re a tiny dancer with big dreams. And when you no longer feel the weight of the “not enoughness”, you will burst like a firework and light up the sky just like you were created to do. I see it. I’m living in it. And I’m here to tell you that every single thing this life throws at you is a lesson to learn, not a brick to build a wall. 

Stay bright, my sweet girl. I know our light dimmed for a moment there, and we got lost. It was scary and confusing. Hey, you’re only human. But like I knew you would, you found your way through. And on the other end was an evolution of you. A version of you that was patiently waiting to be found. You’re becoming. I am so excited for you to feel YOUR light. And THAT is what enough feels like. A firework that is unapologetic about doing exactly what it was designed to do. Light up the sky. And just like Elvis, I can’t help falling in love with you.
Now, enough is enough!

From You, With Love

Sweet Angie

What does it mean to be enough? 

Enough for who? Parents? Grandparents? Teachers? Peers? Colleges? Coworkers? Jobs? Bosses? Society? The World?

The fact is… you weren’t the best in school, with your decent grades accomplished with late nights finishing homework and studying for tests. 

You weren’t the best at making friends either, usually missing out parties, sleepovers, and hangouts. 

To be honest, you didn’t particularly stand out in sports, music, art, and you weren’t the prettiest either. 

From the outside looking in, there’s nothing special about you. 

So that means you were never enough for your peers, being the weird one that was a little too genuine; or for your teachers, getting mediocre grades according to their standards.

On paper, there was nothing special about you either. Colleges just saw the average grades mixed in with millions of other students. 

Then there was the military and there was really nothing special about you.

So … what does it mean to be enough?

Well, your life isn’t a sob story, but just because you faced difficulties that may or may not have been more difficult than others’, doesn’t mean your struggles are invalid or wrong or unjustified.

Everyone struggles.

Everyone’s life is hard.

But for you and your life… you are enough.

I know that you love with your whole heart and you aren’t afraid to show it. You love so much it hurts.

I know that your family at home depends on you. You are exactly where you should be. Your siblings and your parents still need you, too. 

You don’t need to be the best mom, or daughter, or sister. You just need to be there – and you are. You need to be kind and loving – and you are. You just need to be you.

I also know that you work hard every single day of your life. I know that sometimes that means the hardest days are just getting out of bed, battling depression. Sometimes that means the hardest days are working from home, being a stay at home mom, working drill on the weekends, cleaning the house and making sure there’s food on the table every night. 

I know you feel like a failure when you make a mistake, or you get a little too angry, or don’t show enough affection, or even by saying the wrong thing. 

But regardless of what you think or what you’ve done, you are worthy of love, compassion, and happiness. 

You are enough being you.

Style Score: 84%

Dear 20-year-old me,

So, you flunked out of college
And lost your one true love.
You think you’re lazy, dumb, despicable –
Another useless maggot of our society –
A cancerous tumor bulging up,
Pressing upon our dying Mother Earth.

I know you’re sadly stuck
In the ultimate, existential catch 22.
Claim death,
And stab a dagger in your parents’ hearts.
Keep breathing,
And burden them all as you suffer.

Hold my hand and listen close
As I tell you of another way.
I will show you a path to living.
You can shed your sickly skin.
What is held within you
Is brighter than the darkness
Blacking out your soul.

The trick is not to push harder,
But rather to ease into yourself,
Relax into all that scares you,
Recover what hides and haunts.
Only then can you dig out the dirt.
Take time to purge, so as to heal.

Be patient with the process.
Transformation is within your reach,
But the grabbing is slow and arduous.
Like the alien-nymph buried in the mud,
You will one day emerge anew
With wondrous wings to take flight.

Oh, the lands you will discover!
Your adventures are only beginning.
Every part will piece you together.
Each experience, food for your growth.
You may think you’re outrunning the beast,
But really, you’re steering your wild heart.

Someday you’ll be the touchstone,
The teacher, the leader, the inspiration
For those you’re yet to meet,
But who will find their own way through you.
Your butterfly effect will ripple forth,
Brightening the worlds of many beings.

So, please, my dear former self,
Don’t discard or disregard who you are.
There’s more to us than you know.
You’re a dragonfly in waiting,
Temporarily buried in the muck,
Simply preparing for life in the sun.

Dear who I was a year ago,

Stop. I know what you are thinking, but you are completely wrong, you know. All those things you’ve convinced yourself about who you are and the ending of your life, based on what others told you and what you told yourself, are rumors. The rumors say, “You are a mess”, “You are incapable of love”, “You’ll never get better”, etc. If anything, I’m laughing right now that you actually believe that. You are way more than those words.

On the contrary, I learned the opposite of what those rumors said. I am not messy, I am adventurous and creative. It’s better to be more than to be less. Less would be so boring. It’s so much more fun to be myself. I have the ability to fight and to love. I can stand up for myself, and not take trash, but I can love people too. You and I are the opposite of a bad person. We always want to do better, even though it can feel impossible. You always have the intent to do good despite your mistakes. I even tried saving a wounded bunny out of the hope I could save it. It didn’t make it, but I felt good knowing I tried doing good. You do what you can with all you have at the moment. It doesn’t make you a “bad person” or “lazy”, it makes you human.

On top of that, you are not incapable of love either. You love nature and you love your boyfriend. You love him more than anything and you’ll sit outside for hours barefoot on the grass because you love the feeling. You literally will strike up a conversation with anybody.

Therefore, would a bad person ever be like that? I don’t think so. How could you think you’re a bad person when you’ve helped others stay alive and beat their depression? How could you be a bad person when, even at rock bottom, you help others? You sacrificed hours of your time, sleep, and self-respect to listen to and affirm people who were struggling. That is what a hero does, not any hero, but a real one.

As a result, I proved myself wrong and even made a friend of myself and the world. I know it is hard where you are at the moment, but even while being in the same environment, I am thriving. I have cut off every bad person because I love myself. I dropped the ‘party life’ because I wanted meaning for myself. You might think you can’t do a lot, but I’m achieving things I never thought were possible because I chose to try for myself.

Specifically, in your freshman year, you hated painting. You thought you sucked. You even almost failed, but I taught myself how to paint, sculpt, and I reached out to art organizations merely on the passion for art that I’ve developed. Now I’ve been accepted into four art programs so far, put up my artwork in an art show, helped construct an exhibition, and had my art titles in a museum. Next on my bucket list is art college and teaching myself to draw. I’m able to achieve all of these goals because I put in the effort for myself. I live for myself. All you need to do is try. Once you put in all your effort, you won’t stop achieving. I’ve come so far, but I know I’ll go further.

Right now, on June 16th, 2025, I am sitting on my bed, realizing that I’ve taught myself so much. I am even grateful for the people who hurt me and my past because it only made me better. It made my life so much more interesting and the stuff you are crying about gave you a story. I am the strongest person I know because I managed to teach myself to love a world I once hated by turning the hate into love.

For these reasons, you are more than enough. You are everything all at once, and it is beautiful. Love your weaknesses, and love your strengths. You need both to be the best verison of yourself. The little girl you were years ago is rooting for you every day. You have the same spirit the little girl had; you’ve only grown stronger from understanding real struggle. You are still curious like her, you are energetic and authentic like her, but she never once judged herself. You wouldn’t judge that little girl either, so don’t judge yourself. Tell yourself you are enough for your little self and she’ll appreciate every kind word.

To every version of me that was never enough,

Let’s start with adolescence
and travel through the years
Neglected as a child,
no one there to wipe your tears

You weren’t taught self-respect
Or that your mind had any value
You were taught that sex was cheap
With zero effort men could have you

You hid behind the booze
Because they kinda numbed the pain
You quickly lost control
And were unable to regain

You found yourself a mother
Before you started senior year
The man who shared the baby
Unfortunately, insincere.

The next ten years are blurry
A hurricane of lust and d ugs
Of broken hearts and empty smiles
And smoke-infested lungs

Men often saw a burden
In the place in which you stood
Because they can’t control you
And your mental’s not so good

In many ways they broke you
In body and in mind
You pretended you deserved it
But you can not be that blind

Your family and your friends
Jumped ship and left your side
When living was too much to bear
You would have rather died

Self-doubt bled into your life
In way more spots than one
Your exes sought out ammunition
You handed them the gun

They stripped you of the only thing
That really made you whole
You didn’t scream, you cowered down
As they inherited your soul

So many men with faces blurred
Have taken pieces of you
That weren’t on loan, or theirs to keep
So eventually you withdrew

You took your sanction, Owned it loud
As if you earned the retribution
You may as well have pulled the plug
A self-worth execution

You measured merit by fake love
And what you thought you had to offer
You forgot that you are also you
A mother and a daughter

You are worthy of the love you give
Maybe someday you’ll see
You don’t deserve abuse and fraud
Respect should not cost you a fee

Last I checked, you don’t lie flat
Outside of someone’s doorway
You have a right to voice your needs
And expect some mental foreplay

Maybe it’s time to consider facts;
until now you had no clue
You don’t need to be anything for anyone
As long as you’re okay with you.

Style score 62%

We often go to war at an early age and we don’t even know it! On the verge of who we wanna be while trying to hold on to who we are. Growing up I never felt as if I was enough especially with society telling you everyday what beauty was or what was trending. That’s kinda hard to focus on when your mother can barely afford the new bike you want with the Barbie streamers. I’ve always looked at things or places and people to validate who I wanted to be. It wasn’t until I actually went through some of the darkest moments of my life that I actually realized who I really am. Going through the traumatic times in my life almost made me develop a sense of protection. “From what??” You may ask? My inner child. She has always saw the world as an oyster, full of endless possibilities, and fun, as I grow through life as an adult I find myself protecting her as much as I can. As I look back to that little girl it was a time for me that I was the most free. I know as adults we have to grow and experience, but the moments when things are tough I always remember those times I doubted myself or second guessed myself or didn’t even believe in myself, that little girl finds me somehow someway and always tells me you got this! YOU ARE ENOUGH!

I apologize for making you hate yourself. For making you feel unworthy. For making you feel lost. For making you believe you were undeserving of love and friendship. For subjecting you to heartbreak and betrayal. For ignoring the signs.

I apologize for all the times I didn’t protect you. For ignoring your gut when it said, Get out of here. For allowing people to use you and throw you away. For never listening when you said, I want to leave. For never acknowledging the things people said and did to keep the peace, while you were the one in fear.

I apologize for not telling you that you were beautiful. For picking you apart in the mirror. For trying to shrink your nose with makeup and make your skin look lighter. For not appreciating your brown eyes, for trying to hide them with contacts. For hating your lips, tucking them when you spoke. For hating your body, forcing you to eat when you weren’t hungry just so you’d look like every other Black girl you saw.

I apologize for making you feel like you had to work for love. Like who you were wasn’t enough. Like your worth was attached to what you did. Like saying no was a flaw. Like you were only as great as what you could give to others.

I apologize for trying to force friendships and relationships on you. For trying to make you fit in. For making you adapt to every environment. For making you transform into whatever version pleased those around you. For making you change your voice. For making you shrink yourself.

I regret to inform you that as you got older, it got worse. I didn’t learn as soon as I should have. I still latched onto people who didn’t deserve your time or your space. I tried to let go of people who showed they didn’t love you. I tried to walk away, but unfortunately, our heart is too big to be unforgiving. I am still learning how not to let it be broken. I even tried to take pills and let you rest once. Please don’t be mad at me. I promise I am trying.

I know in my heart one day we will get there, but until then, I want you to know that I have learned to hold onto you a little tighter. I have accepted that being alone isn’t always a bad thing. There are people who exist who will love you. There are days that are brighter than others. And those dark days, they don’t last that long.

I’ve learned that you are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to have opinions. You are allowed to feel, and you have a right to expression. You are not insignificant. You matter, even on the days it feels like you don’t. Remember that Jesus died for you too. You meant just as much to Him on the cross as everyone else. I know you can’t see it yet, and sometimes I still have a hard time seeing it, but it’s true.

I promise going forward that I will protect you. I will tell you that you are beautiful. I will not make you work for love. I will not force relationships and friendships. I promise I will always love you. I know it’s not something you’re used to hearing, but I do love you. Even if nobody else ever loves you, I do. And I will fight for you forever.

I’m writing this from the front steps of the house on Ann Street, the place where your childhood quietly unraveled before it ever had the chance to begin. To the little girl who just wanted to enjoy life’s simple things, playing with dolls or being a princess wearing a sparkly tutu. You wanted to believe in yourself, to dream big, to take up space. But those were only dreams, soft hopes tucked into a heart too young to understand why they were always pushed aside. Over time, those dreams were replaced with silence, fear, and the instinct to survive. You didn’t just fear being hurt; you feared being ignored, blamed, and forgotten. Speaking up never guaranteed being helped. So, you stopped wishing for childhood and focused on simply making it through the day.

I remember exactly when you started to believe you weren’t enough. While other kids were protected, you were expected to keep everything together. You held the role of protector, caretaker, and emotional shield. You wiped tears you didn’t cause and carried responsibilities no child should have to carry. Not because you wanted to, but because if you didn’t, you were blamed or punished without explanation. You were forced to grow up before you had a chance to be a child.

You didn’t have ribbons in your hair or the luxury of choosing outfits that made you feel special. You wore what you were given, even if it didn’t fit. In sixth grade, you walked the halls in shoes far too big, the soles flapping with each step. You moved slowly, hoping no one would hear. Your glasses made you a target, and your quiet spirit gave others a reason to laugh. You tried to disappear, hoping no one would see your discomfort or struggles.

Sometimes, you misbehaved, not out of spite, but from a need to be seen. You wanted someone, anyone, to ask why. But instead of concern, you were punished, labeled, and misunderstood. You weren’t trying to misbehave. You were trying to matter. You were trying to fill the emptiness that love was supposed to cover. Each time you were scolded, your shame grew. You started to believe you were the problem, not the silence, not the hurt. That belief followed you like a shadow, whispering that you were too broken to be loved. Still, you hoped someone might see past your behavior and into the pain beneath it.

What no one saw was that you were exhausted. Not just tired from being teased but from carrying everyone else. You were snuck away in the night, told to be quiet, told to stay hidden. You cried behind smiles and held your pain in places no one could see. You were tired of shrinking to stay safe. Tired of holding it all together so no one else had to.

You asked, “Why wasn’t I enough to be loved the way I needed?” But the answers stayed buried, just like the moment in sixth grade when someone’s touch took away your words. You didn’t have the language for what happened. Only shame. You learned to keep secrets. You comforted others without ever being comforted. You dried your siblings’ tears while no one wiped yours. You celebrated others while feeling invisible. You gave even when you had nothing left.

And still, you were kind. Still, you loved. You gave your heart in pieces, even when it was ignored. You poured light into others while your own soul ran on empty. You tried to build a sense of normal, even when no one showed you how.

You were told to stand up for yourself, but how could you stand in something never built for you? Your identity wasn’t shaped by love. It was built in survival. At six, you wanted to be a princess. At ten, a nurse. At thirteen, a pediatrician. But life had other plans. You didn’t get to dream long enough before reality interrupted.

Sometimes, you traded homework for friendship, because being noticed mattered more than a grade. You let the disrespect slide because being tolerated felt safer than being alone.

I wish I could sit beside you on these steps and say: you are not what happened to you. I wish someone had told you that your voice mattered. That you were worthy of softness. Of safety. Of love that didn’t hurt.

You were a child trying to grow in soil that didn’t nourish you. And still, you bloomed through cracked concrete. Through heartbreak. You bloomed without permission, without applause, without help. You were always enough, Tyessia. Even when you didn’t feel it. Even when no one told you. You were enough in your silence. Enough in your softness. Enough in your strength. And now, here you are. Still healing. Still rising. Still reaching back to that little girl to say: it wasn’t your fault. You are not broken. You are no longer invisible. I carry you with me. I let you rest. I let you cry. You don’t have to be strong all the time anymore. I’ve got you now. You are healing. You are worthy. You are free.

Dear little girl
Sitting on the bathroom tile
Where’s your smile
I haven’t seen it in awhile
What happened to your spark
Your bodies suppose to be art
You’ve been tearing it apart

Dear little girl
Sitting on the bathroom tile
Oh, look at the hour
Did your juice turn sour
Did your world loose its color
Like a picture left in rainwater
Did you finish your plate
It’s getting kind of late
You’re making a mistake

Dear little girl
Sitting on the bathroom tile
Where’s your smile
It’s been awhile
Cuts upon your thighs
Cries in those brown eyes
As you spit out what’s inside

Dear little girl
Sitting on the bathroom tile
You’re more than your weight
Or the voices full of hate
There’s still light in your world
I know it’s been a rough tour

Dear little me
I remember your cries
Ive carried your pain
But Ive survived
So here’s to keeping hope alive

Hello younger me,

As I set here in my nice home, in my comfy pajamas, with my beautiful family of husband and pets; I think of you, the little girl that I once was. I think of your sadness at never being good enough or strong enough, quiet enough or sill enough, quick enough or thin enough, or anything, anything enough. I think of the nights you cried into your pillow, of how you learned how to sob silently, of how you learned that you couldn’t be found crying because, well, because you would be attacked again and you just couldn’t take one more verbal insult or one more violent outburst tonight. I think of how you learned to hug your pillows, your animals, your stuffed toys or just yourself; because asking for hugs and physical touch too much led to insults and verbal attacks on yourself and your emotional neediness. I think of the bruises, that will never fade, that were put on your soul, your heart and your mind, because you just needed too much that day. I think of the times of asking questions, from that beautiful inquisitive mind, and being shot down verbally, because you were stupid or dumb or just couldn’t get the simplest things in life right. I hear the insults, the hurtful quips, the sayings passed from generations before, that you have hidden in your heart and mind and still beat yourself with today. I wish I could hug you, hold you, encourage you, listen to you and just be there for you; but I can’t, I can’t because I’m still there with you, huddling and afraid, terrified and alone, just a little girl trapped. Stuck, fighting to get out, struggling to survive, dying to be rescued; while living this beautiful, amazing life that you have achieved, but still cannot enjoy.