Writers 
Some days, I wake up tired
before the day has even begun.
Not because I did anything wrong,
but because carrying everything quietly
can become heavy.
Some days, I don’t have the answers.
I don’t know where I’m going,
I don’t know when things will get easier,
and I don’t know how long
I will have to wait for the life
I’ve been hoping for.
But I’m learning.
I’m learning that I don’t have to solve
my whole life in one morning.
Sometimes, getting out of bed
is enough.
Sometimes, drinking water,
opening the curtains,
taking a shower,
finishing one small task,
or simply sitting somewhere peaceful
is progress too.
I’m learning not to hate myself
for having difficult days.
I am allowed to be tired.
I am allowed to feel disappointed.
I am allowed to miss people
I thought would stay.
I am allowed to outgrow places
where I once felt at home.
And I am allowed to begin again.
Maybe healing isn’t always
a beautiful sunrise
or a sudden moment
when everything finally makes sense.
Maybe sometimes healing
looks like laughing again
without feeling guilty.
Maybe it is listening to an old song
and realizing it doesn’t hurt anymore.
Maybe it is looking in the mirror
and finally speaking to yourself
with the same kindness
you give everyone else.
I used to think I needed
to become a completely different person
to have a better life.
Now I think I just need
to keep becoming.
Slowly.
Quietly.
One day at a time.
There are still things
I haven’t figured out.
There are still dreams
I’m waiting for.
There are still nights
when my thoughts become too loud.
But tomorrow is still waiting for me.
And that means there is still time.
Time to learn.
Time to grow.
Time to laugh until my stomach hurts.
Time to meet people
who will appreciate the parts of me
I once thought were too much.
Time to become someone
my younger self would be proud of.
So I won’t demand
that I be okay every single day.
I’ll just promise myself
that when today is difficult,
I’ll give tomorrow a chance.
And when tomorrow is difficult too,
I’ll give the next day a chance.
Because maybe life doesn’t need
to be perfect before it becomes beautiful.
Maybe I can find little pieces of beauty
right here,
in the middle of becoming.
And maybe, someday,
I’ll look back at this version of myself
and whisper,
“You made it through.
You kept going.
And look at you now.”
