Today.
There’s a space between what I can say out loud and what still lives in my body.
In the middle of legal words, misunderstandings, and too many sleepless nights, I learned that silence isn’t weakness – it’s the body trying to keep you safe.
I used to think I needed to speak louder, to prove, to explain. Now I’m learning to trust that the truth doesn’t expire just because it hasn’t been told yet.
Maybe you, too, know that space – the ache between what you survived and today.
I’m writing this as a reminder: your voice will return when it feels safe enough. Don’t worry about what anyone else says or trying to force it. Just be right here. Just breathe.
I hope you, too, can let time and safety decide when your story is ready to be heard. I hope you also can trust me. I promise – I am here for you.