What if someone says,
“I’m glad you told me.”
What if someone sits with you
in the dark
instead of trying to fix you?
What if healing
isn’t loud
or dramatic
but quiet
Like someone staying.
Time is not just the thing
that measures your pain.
It is also the thing
that proves
you’ve survived 100% of your worst days.
Every breakdown
you thought would end you
didn’t.
Every night
you swore you wouldn’t make it through
you did.
You are still here.
And being here
is not small.
If you feel invisible,
I see you.
If you feel like you’re too much,
you are not too much for the right people.
If you feel like no one would notice if you disappeared
you are wrong.
Your absence would echo.
Your laugh.
Your perspective.
Your presence in a room.
The way you check on others.
The way you try.
Yes
even you.
The one who feels tired of trying.
There is someone
who would rather sit up all night listening
than attend your funeral wondering
why you didn’t call.
Read that again.
There is someone
who would choose your midnight honesty
over your permanent silence.
Time is not your enemy.
Time is a witness.
And this hour
this heavy, suffocating, unbearable hour
is not the only hour that belongs to you.
There is an hour coming
where you breathe easier.
An hour where you say,
“I almost didn’t make it.”
An hour where you help someone else survive
because you remember
what it felt like.
An hour where the dark
doesn’t scare you anymore
because you know
it passes.
Stay.
Stay long enough
to meet that version of you.
Stay long enough
to see the light change.
Stay long enough
to realize
that the lie in your head
is not louder than the love around you.
And if you can’t see love around you right now
Borrow mine.
Borrow these words.
Borrow this moment.
You have someone.
Even if that someone
is a voice in a poem
telling you
that you matter
more than your worst thought
on your worst day
at your worst hour.
Time is not here
to erase you.
It is here
to carry you
from this hour
to the next.
And the next one
is still unwritten.
So stay.
The clock is still ticking
Not as a countdown.
But as proof
that you are still here.
And being here
is the bravest thing
you’ve done all day.