I don't remember the last time someone actually saw me. Not the mask. Not the performance. The real me. The one who cries in the car and stares at the ceiling at 3am wondering if anyone would notice if I stopped existing. I don't remember the last time someone hugged me and meant it. The kind where you think "oh. This is what being held feels like. I forgot." I don't remember the last time someone asked how I was and actually wanted the answer. Where I could say "I'm drowning" and they wouldn't flinch. Where I could just be broken without someone trying to fix me. I don't remember the last time I felt wanted. Not needed. Not useful. Wanted. Chosen. Missed. I don't remember the last time I felt God. Just silence echoing when I pray. I keep reaching. Keep hoping. Nothing reaches back. I don't remember the last time I wasn't tired. Soul tired. The kind where getting out of bed is the victory. Where "I made it through today" is the only prayer I have. If you felt this? I'm sorry you know this kind of ache. But you're still here. And if you're still here, some part of you is still hoping. I'm choosing to hope too. Not because it's easy. Because the alternative is worse. You're not alone. You're not too much. You're not beyond saving. You matter. You matter. You matter. Say it until you believe it. I'll say it with you.