Picture a bright, beautiful, creative, intelligent, exceptional girl who knows how to love.

Picture her falling in love because she forgets how worthy she is.

As she falls, she forgets more. She forgets to create art, art that filled her with life once. She forgets her friendships, not for lack of love, but because she was drowning in anxiety and pain but because he was jealous and could not love her in the ways she deserved.

As she fell, she tried to clutch and grasp. She started to flail, to wait, but she had become deaf to her own screams.

Real love makes you rise, it doesn’t push you down, into the dirt. But how could she know that?

She loved him and he loved her, and that was supposed to be enough.

She had hit rock bottom, there in the dirt and the grime and the darkness and the gray

the gray

but she was blind to the cracks in her heart. And when he left, she woke the fuck up.

She had to.

And how can she climb out of this hole without him? Where’s the ladder, the rope, the flashlight, she is she so alone?

The truth is she isn’t.

We are here. We are reaching to you. We are trying, hard to lift you up. You are enough for us. We love you, we love you in the ways he couldn’t. We see your light, but he’s made you blind. He crippled your heart, your soul, but it’s still there.

All that you have to do is look up.