Crow and Flame

Remember when…

Remember when you thought you had to have everything figured out?

When you believed everyone else had some secret map to adulthood, healing, love, and happiness—and somehow yours had been misplaced?

Remember when you thought being strong meant never crying?

When you swallowed your hurt because you didn’t want to be difficult.

When you said I’m fine because explaining the truth felt too exhausting.

Remember when you apologized for taking up space?

For having feelings.

For needing reassurance.

For being tired.

For wanting more.

Little crow, I remember.

I remember the girl who tried so hard to become whatever everyone else needed her to be.

The girl who learned to read the room before she learned to read herself.

The girl who could sense a change in someone’s voice from across the room and immediately wonder what she had done wrong.

You thought survival was the same thing as living.

You didn’t know yet that constantly preparing for the next hurt would eventually make peace feel unfamiliar.

You didn’t know that you could spend years carrying things that were never yours to carry.

You didn’t know that one day, you would look back and realize—

You were never too much.

You were simply asking the wrong people to hold something precious.

Remember when you thought starting over meant you had failed?

You will learn differently.

You will learn that sometimes starting over is the bravest thing a person can do.

You will leave places you once begged to stay.

You will release people you thought you couldn’t live without.

You will grieve versions of yourself you once believed were permanent.

And somehow, quietly, almost imperceptibly…

You will begin to become.

Not the person you were supposed to be.

Not the person everyone else wanted.

You.

The one underneath all the expectations.

The one underneath the fear.

The one underneath the scars.

Little crow, I wish I could go back and sit beside you.

I wouldn’t try to fix everything.

I wouldn’t tell you that it would all make sense.

I would simply sit there.

I would take your hand.

And I would say:

You don’t have to understand your whole story yet.

Just keep turning the pages.

Because there are chapters you haven’t reached.

There are people you haven’t met.

There are places you haven’t seen.

There are mornings you haven’t woken up to yet.

There are versions of yourself waiting on the other side of everything you thought would break you.

So remember when you thought the story was over?

It wasn’t.

It was only the part where the feathers began to fall.

And little crow…

You were learning how to fly.

With love,
An old crow who finally learned that surviving was never the end of the story.