What If We Were Never Wrong?

(A letter from somewhere between truth and memory)

Some truths are too quiet to shout. You have to write them to hear them.

Hey you,

Do you ever think back to who you were… before you were told to be different?

Before you started apologizing for your feelings, your dreams and even your voice?

I do. But really not in a nostalgic way. More like a quiet curiosity.As if the truth of who we are is still there...somewhere buried under years of performance and of being “reasonable”, of playing nice all the time.

I’ve been wondering lately:

What if we weren’t wrong at all?

What if every time someone called us too much, what they really meant was: you make me feel something I’m not ready to feel myself?

What if “too sensitive” just meant: I am still alive.

What if “too emotional” meant: your nervous system hasn’t given up yet.

What if “too intense” was your refusal to numb yourself?

I used to wear camouflage like perfume—soft, invisible, just enough to belong.

But here’s what I’m learning (slowly, messily):

Maybe I was never broken.

Maybe you weren’t either.

Maybe we just internalized too many stories that were never ours to carry.

And now, we get to put them down. We have to put them down.

Not with a drama or rage.But just the quiet decision... that I don’t owe anyone the smaller version of me anymore.

I don't know if any of this feels familiar but maybe it’s time to write. Not a to-do list. Not another plan to be “better.”Just… a letter to the part of overselves that knew who we were before the world got so unbelievable loud.

That part is still in there.Not gone... it is just waiting.And maybe today’s the day you say hi again.

Love,

You. But clearer.