Reflective/Emotional Story

By Nadeem Shah

Dear younger me,

You don’t know this yet, but one day you’ll look back and ache for a boy you didn’t protect—yourself.

Right now, you’re carrying the weight of the world on your tiny shoulders, thinking that if you’re just good enough, kind enough, perfect enough… maybe they’ll see you. Maybe they’ll love you the way you need. I wish I could reach through time and whisper in your ear: You are already enough.

I see you forcing a smile in the mirror, even when the world feels too loud. I see how you apologize for existing, how you shrink so others can have more room. You call it being polite. Being respectful. Being strong. But really, you’re disappearing—one silent sacrifice at a time.

Let me tell you something important: Strength is not measured by how much pain you can hold without flinching. It’s measured by how gently you can hold yourself when no one else does.

You don’t need to earn love through achievement. Your worth isn’t tied to how many gold stars you collect or how often you make others laugh when you’re breaking inside. You are not a product of performance. You are a person. And you are allowed to take up space.

I know you struggle with asking for help. You think needing something makes you weak. You’ve convinced yourself that silence is safer than rejection, that being self-sufficient is noble. But please hear this: needing others doesn’t make you a burden. Hiding your pain doesn’t make you strong—it makes you lonely.

There will be days when you fall apart. Days when your mask cracks, when you can’t hold it together anymore. And it will feel like failure. It’s not.

It’s human.

You’ll outgrow people you thought you’d never live without. You’ll say goodbye to friends who once felt like home. And it will hurt. God, it will hurt. But you’ll also meet new souls who don’t just accept your scars—they honor them. People who won’t flinch when you finally say, “I’m not okay.”

You’ll learn that love isn’t something you have to chase. That you don’t have to perform to be worthy of belonging. That your softness isn’t a liability—it’s your superpower. The world will try to convince you otherwise. Don’t let it.

You’ll unlearn the lies you were taught: that vulnerability is dangerous, that tears are weakness, that you always have to be the strong one.

One day, you’ll choose yourself—not out of spite, but out of survival. And that will be the most courageous thing you’ve ever done.

You’ll stop apologizing for your sensitivity. You’ll stop dulling your brightness so others feel comfortable. You’ll begin to speak your truth—not because it’s loud, but because it matters.

I won’t lie to you. There will still be battles. Some people will still disappoint you. But you’ll no longer see their inability to love you as a reflection of your value. You’ll stop bleeding yourself dry for those who only know how to take.

You’ll find peace—not the kind that comes from control, but the kind that grows from acceptance. You’ll finally understand that healing isn’t about erasing your past. It’s about building something beautiful from the ashes.

And one quiet morning, maybe with coffee in your hand and sunlight on your face, you’ll look in the mirror and think: I like the person I’ve become.

Not perfect. But whole.

I’m proud of you already.

With love,

Your future self

Author’s Note:

We spend so much of our lives trying to be everything for everyone that we forget to be something for ourselves. This story is for anyone who has felt like they had to earn their place in the world. You don’t. You belong. As you are.

— Nadeem shah