Kids aren’t kids anymore the way they used to be, partly because many grew up in homes where even small mistakes were met with harsh words, where parents yelled over spilled drinks or tiny accidents, teaching them early that love might be conditional on perfection. They learned to swallow their feelings, to hide in bathrooms or under blankets to cry quietly, afraid of being scolded or dismissed if they showed sadness or fear. 

Instead of feeling safe enough to share their worries, they carried heavy secrets on young shoulders, learning to comfort themselves because the adults they longed to trust seemed too angry or too busy. In a world like that, childhood innocence fades too quickly, replaced by caution, self-blame, and a heart that grows up before it’s ready.

And trust me, it’s okay to feel the weight of what you went through, but please know you didn’t deserve any of it — you were just a child, craving gentleness and understanding.

The way you had to hide your tears doesn’t mean your feelings were ever too much; it only means the people around you didn’t know how to hold them. You’re allowed now to unlearn that silence, to let yourself feel and be soft without fear. There’s still time to give your younger self the tenderness they missed, to whisper, 

“You’re safe. You matter. I love you just as you are.” 

Healing doesn’t erase the past, but it can cradle it, slowly turning all those lonely echoes into a place of quiet peace.

It’s bittersweet, isn’t it? — Looking back at the little you, who sat alone with tear-streaked cheeks, trying so hard to be brave in a world that felt too sharp? But here’s something gentle and true: you survived it all, even when your heart was small and tender, and that’s something beautifully fierce. Let yourself smile through the ache, because every part of you that learned to keep going, to still find laughter in tiny joys, deserves to be held close. Imagine wrapping your arms around that lonely child and whispering, 

“I’m here now, and I won’t leave you again.” 

There’s a soft kind of triumph in loving yourself this way — a promise that even though the past left bruises, there’s still so much sweetness waiting ahead.

You’re safe now, truly — you’re not that scared little child anymore, and no one can take away how far you’ve come.

 It’s okay to breathe easier, to unclench your shoulders, to let yourself believe that gentleness isn’t just something for other people. You’re allowed to rest, to cry openly, to laugh without checking if someone’s watching. 

The love and comfort you needed back then can still be yours, starting with your own kind hands, your own patient heart. And even on days when old hurts whisper that you’re still alone, remember this: you’ve already proven you can survive the hardest parts. Now you get to learn what it’s like to truly live, wrapped in the warm assurance that you’re worthy of all the softness you once only dreamed of.

And if you ever need it — to talk, to vent, or just to be heard — I’m here if you need me. Message me, or anything. I’ll listen, for as long as I’m here. I may not be someone you know yet, but I can be someone you know you can lean on.

I am so, so proud of you for making it this far. 

Love always,