I don't know your name. I don't know your story. I don't know what happened to you, where it happened, or how long you been carrying all this pain. But I know something about you that I wish none of us ever had to know about ourselves. I know what it feel like to have something taken from you that you never willingly gave. I know what it feel like to question yourself. To keep replaying everything in your head, wonderin' what you coulda did different. Wonderin' why you ain't scream louder, fight harder, run faster, or say no in a way they couldn't twist around. And I need you to hear me, sis. From one survivor to another. It was never your fault. Not what you had on. Not where you went. Not who you trusted. Not how much you drank. Not whether you froze up. Not whether you knew the person who hurt you. Not whether you said no, or whether your body went still while your mind was screamin' for it to stop. You ain't deserve what happened to you. I wish I could sit right beside you, hold your hand, and tell you that you ain't broken. That the parts of you that feel lost ain't gone forever. That you still deserve love, tenderness, safety, and happiness, even after everything you been through. 'Cause sometimes survivin' don't look like strength. Sometimes survivin' look like gettin' outta bed when your whole body feel too heavy. Sometimes it's smilin' in everybody's face while you fallin' apart on the inside. Sometimes it's avoidin' certain places, certain smells, certain songs, or certain people 'cause they take you right back to a moment you been tryin' so hard to forget. Sometimes survivin' mean cryin' in the shower 'cause that's the only place you feel safe enough to let it all out. And sometimes survivin' mean you don't cry at all. Ain't no right way to heal. I know folks might ask why you waited to speak up. Why you ain't report it. Why you still talk to the person who hurt you. Why you don't seem upset. Why you seem too upset. Why you ain't moved on yet. Folks always got questions they got no business askin'. But you don't owe nobody an explanation for how you made it through. You don't owe nobody your story. You don't gotta prove your pain for it to be real. And you don't gotta forgive the person who hurt you just to find some peace. I want you to know that I see you, sis. I see the woman still tryin' to feel safe in her own body. I see the woman who struggle to trust people. I see the woman who wonder if she ever gon' feel like herself again. I see the woman who's been carryin' all this in silence 'cause she scared nobody gon' believe her. I see the woman who finally spoke up and got met with disbelief, judgment, or silence. I see the woman still tryin' to understand how somebody she trusted could hurt her like that. And I see the woman who's still here. Still breathin'. Still tryin'. Still deservin' of a life that's so much bigger than what happened to her. And if nobody done told you lately, let me be the one to say it. You ain't dirty. You ain't damaged goods. You ain't weak. You ain't responsible for somebody else's decision to violate you. You ain't defined by the worst thing somebody ever did to you. You a whole person. A beautiful, complicated, worthy woman who deserved to be protected, respected, and loved. And even if you can't believe them words right now, I hope you hold on to 'em until you can. I hope you find people who listen without questionin' your pain. I hope you find places where you can breathe without feelin' scared. I hope you find somebody who understand that healing ain't always a straight line. I hope you find moments of happiness that don't come with guilt. I hope you learn that you can laugh again without feelin' like you betrayin' the woman you used to be. I hope you learn that you can love again without forgettin' what happened. And I hope you understand that healing don't mean actin' like it never happened. It mean learnin' that what happened to you don't get to own every single part of your future. From one survivor to another, I wanna leave you with this. You allowed to take your time. You allowed to have bad days. You allowed to change your mind. You allowed to speak. You allowed to stay silent. You allowed to be angry. You allowed to be soft. You allowed to become somebody you never thought you could be. And you allowed to live a beautiful life. I might never know your name, but I know your worth. I might never know your story, but I believe you deserve to be heard. And I might never meet you, but I hope these words find you on a day when you need 'em the most. We more than what happened to us. We more than the silence. We more than the shame that was never ours to carry. We survivors. And we deserve to live. With love, solidarity, and the deepest understanding, A fellow survivor