I didn’t start writing to tell a story.

I started writing because I couldn’t carry the weight of my feelings any longer.

I wrote badly.

I wrote in fragments.

I slammed my fingers against the keyboard, furious, heartbroken, confused — sometimes all at once.

I wasn’t trying to be careful.

I wasn’t trying to be coherent.

I was just trying to survive the moment.

You don’t need a neat beginning, a clear through-line, or a polished ending.

I didn’t.

Sometimes I was embarrassed by what spilled out.

My writing was messy, raw, unfiltered.

But I wasn’t sorry.

Because I needed it.

Because writing — even ugly, unplanned, furious writing — kept me from disappearing under the weight of everything I couldn’t say out loud.

If you’re standing at the edge of something that feels too big, too messy, too painful—

you don’t have to know how it ends.

You don’t even have to know what it means yet.

You just have to let yourself say it.

Reflections + Prompts:

• You don’t have to write the whole thing. Just write the next thing.

• Start with the moment that still makes your heart ache or your voice catch.

• What’s something you carry that feels invisible to others?

• What would you tell the “you” from back then?

• What parts of your story are still whispering to be heard?

A note to the brave beginner:

You won’t ruin anything by trying.

You won’t make it worse by telling the truth.

You are allowed to hold love and anger in the same hand.

You are allowed to slam the keyboard.

You are allowed to write your way through the storm.

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