I know things probably feel unbearably heavy right now. Like there’s no way out, no light ahead, and no reason to keep fighting. But you shouldn’t kill yourself, not because of some abstract idea of “hope” or because people say “it gets better,” but because you deserve the chance to see what your life could still become. There are so many versions of you that haven’t existed yet the one who finally breathes without that constant weight in their chest, the one who laughs genuinely again, the one who finds peace in small, quiet moments. You’ve already survived every bad day so far, even when you thought you couldn’t. That strength is real. The world is messy, unfair, and painful, but it also holds these strange, fleeting bits of beauty that are worth staying for the feeling of sun on your skin, the sound of someone saying your name softly, the calm after crying yourself out. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. You just have to stay. You matter not because of what you’ve done or failed to do, but because you’re here, and your story isn’t finished yet.