Dear Me,

It’s been five months, and I’m coming to understand that there’s no time limit to grief. You feel what you feel. It’s not something to just get over. It’s something to process, understand, and accept.

It doesn’t have to be now. It doesn’t even have to be soon.

What’s five months to 21 years of your life? 

This isn’t something to hide from or feel ashamed about. You can tell people how you’re feeling. I know it feels safer to keep the words in. There’s no judgment, no risk. You want people to think you’re okay, so you say nothing. Yet your face sends out signals that can only be decoded by your voice.

So, speak. 

If you do, what guilt do you have left to carry?

What confusion will be left?

What pressure will hold you down?

Silence is easy. But what of the people with open ears, waiting to hear you speak? 

When you keep your walls up, you can’t expect people to knock them over. You have to be the one to break them down, and break down.

Whether you're having an amazing day or a terrible week, they want to know. Not necessarily to fix you, but just to know how you are.

Because they love you.

They love you.

Having a hard time doesn’t make you a burden. 

It’s okay to move slower for a while. Just don’t let yourself stop.

Love,

Yourself.