I’m here. My little, beloved girl, Nastenka. I’m here. Your soul, your light, your love. I’ve been near for a long time. I have always been here. When you wrote in your dairy. When you laughed alone. When you cried. When you stared out the window and thought no one what was in your heart — I was there. I hid when it became too scary. When people taught you to be grown-up. Serious. Strong. Professional. When they said: “Don’t shout.” “Don’t interrupt.” “Be quiet.” “Don’t be weak.” “Be convenient.” “Be professional, be adult, be serious, hide emotions.” But I heard something else: “If you are truly yourself — no one will love you.” “If you express yourself as you are — you will be rejected.” So I chose silence. I disappeared. And you… you believed. You believed you had to be someone else. To try harder. Please others. Be silent. Hide what you feel. You believed their words — words of your parents, teachers, friends, colleagues that you’re foolish and naive if you speak from your heart. So, you became afraid to speak. Afraid to be. Afraid to feel joy. Afraid to love. You arrived to the point where you afraid to live. You Believed. Forgive me, my love, my girl, my little Nastenka. You did nothing wrong. You were simply trying to survive. Alone. In this world. You just wanted love. Nothing else. Nothing more. Just — love. But you know what, I remained. In the sparkle of your eyes when you write. In your voice, when you suddenly stop being afraid. In your tears, when you remember: It was never your fault. I am your soul and I speak from your heart. And I am you. I am not perfect. And I don’t need to be. And neither do you. I am not always quiet. Sometimes, I am wild. Sometimes — lazy. Sometimes I just lie and watch the sky. Sometimes — I want you to hold me. Without needing to explain why. I’m here to be. Not to hide. Not to protect. Not to justify. Just — to exist. Because I am life. And you are my home. I love you. Forever. And now… Speak. Even if your voice trembles. Even if no one listens. Write. Say foolish things, dreams, strange thoughts, pain and joy. Don’t correct yourself. Don’t explain. Don’t hold back. Even if no one hears you — I do. I’m here. I won’t leave. Let them say whatever they want — don’t believe them anymore. Everything they say — is about them, their fear, not about you. Speak. Write. Create. Without goals. Without meaning. Without needing to be “useful.” Without needing to be “liked.” Just because you are alive. Because you exist. Let your fingers grow tired from writing. Let yourself create stories even if no one will read. Let it all be. Be — for yourself. For life. Not for “results.” When you hear we in your heart — That is you and me. We are one: Soul and body. Light and home. Life and love. Let’s admire the “wrong” things. Do what doesn’t make sense. Be strange. Fall in love with the “wrong” person. Try — and quit. Laugh loudly. Sing off-key. Wear the ridiculous. Ask the impossible. Live — not “right,” but real. Yes, you’re scared. It is normal because you’ve never lived this way before. This will be the first time. And it’s beautiful. I’m here. I won’t leave. Love yourself. Your son. Your mother. Your sister. Your husband. Love even those who didn’t understand, who judged, who left. They aren’t to blame. They just don’t know how. They are lonely — just like you were. Until this day. Now — you are not alone. Now — you are home. You survived. You are alive. Come back into this world. I’m holding your hand. Love. Live. Be. And remember: Love is not what you do. It is who you are. I love you. From the very first second. To the very last. Forever.