What If

What if you could go back in time?

What if you could step into the past, just for a moment—just long enough to find your younger self, curled up in that cupboard, hiding from a world too heavy for her small shoulders?

What if you could kneel beside her, brush away the tears, and whisper, "It’s okay. You’ll make it through."

What if you could wrap your arms around her, hold her tight, and promise her that the pain won’t last forever?

But what if—what if all of this was just a dream?

These thoughts never leave me.

I’ve always hoped that one day, I’d wake up and realize this was all just a trick of the mind—some long, restless dream I could shake off with the morning light.

I wanted to believe that I was capable of more than I thought.

But in reality, I’m not even sure of who I am.

Is this the life I wanted?

Is this the age we used to look forward to as kids—believing that growing up meant endless freedom, adventure, and control?

Because now that I stand at the beginning of adulthood, I don’t feel ready.

I don’t feel ready to take on the world with bare hands, to walk down roads unknown, to make choices that can never be undone.

Will my sorrows ever leave me?

Or will they grow with me, changing shape but never truly fading?

But at the end of the day, I have to keep going.

I have to gather myself piece by piece, even if it takes all night.

I have to cover my fragile hands in armor, even if it weighs me down.

I have to move forward, even if fear grips me by the throat.

What if one day I fall?

What if that fall breaks me in ways I can’t repair?

But first—first, I must know what it means to fail.

Because only then will I understand what it truly means to rise.

Have you ever wished you could go back and comfort your younger self? What would you say to them?