Sometimes the body speaks to us when we finally stop silencing its voice.

A Letter from My Body

Hello my love.

I am your body.
I’ve been wanting to have an honest conversation with you for a long time. And now, more than anything, I want to be heard.

I remember how you closed your eyes — not because you were tired, but because you didn’t want to see certain things. You didn’t want to notice what hurt you, what made you anxious, what was quietly breaking you from the inside.
I felt how you pretended to be calm when, in truth, everything inside was shaking.

I remember the feather touching your lips — light, almost weightless — wrapping you in its softness when you longed to scream from pain and helplessness.
You learned to stay silent. You learned not to complain.
You’ve carried so much unspoken truth all these years.

You’ve always been gentle and kind with others. You forgave. You understood.
But you never asked for help — even when you needed it the most.

You were hard on yourself. Demanding.
I felt how you denied yourself so many things.
How you felt ashamed of your weakness, how you hid your tears.

I remember it all.
And I’m still here.
I hold no resentment. I supported you then — and I will support you again and again.

But now, please — be more attentive to me.
I want you to truly see me.
To speak with me.
To listen to how I breathe.

There is so much I can tell you.
So much I can give you.

I am your home.
I am you.

— Your body