The Life I Could Have Lived

The Version of Me That Deserved to Exist

Sometimes, in the quiet moments—when the noise fades and I’m left alone with my thoughts—I wonder about her.
The version of me who never had to break. The one who never had to piece herself back together, over and over, just to keep going.

What would life have looked like if I had been given the chance to live instead of always surviving?
Would I have smiled more easily? Laughed without second-guessing my joy? Felt light in my body instead of carrying the weight of invisible wounds?

I think I would’ve made more memories—not ones I try to erase, but ones I’d treasure. I imagine spontaneous road trips, love that felt safe, a heart that didn’t flinch at kindness. Maybe I would’ve danced in the rain without hearing echoes of past storms. Maybe I would’ve believed I belonged, instead of constantly trying to earn my place.

Healing isn’t the same as living.
Healing is grit. It’s holding yourself together when your soul is begging to collapse. It’s starting again and again—fighting to rebuild a sense of safety in a world that stole it. And yes, I’m proud of my resilience. But I’m also tired.

So tired.

Tired of being the strong one. Tired of surviving. Tired of living in defense mode, always anticipating the next wave of pain.
And some days, I wonder—what if I never had to fix myself in the first place?
What if the world had been gentler? What if love had shown up when it was supposed to?
What if the ones who hurt me had chosen compassion instead?

Would I have been softer? Braver?
Would I have held hands longer, trusted deeper, embraced joy without questioning it?

I think about that version of me often. The one who could just be.
Unbroken. Untethered. Fearless. Free.
She still lives in my dreams—in fleeting flashes of peace, in the longing I feel when I look out at the horizon and wonder… what if?

And I’ve realized something:
That version of me matters.
She deserves to be seen.
Not just by the world—but by me.

Because maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late.
Maybe she’s still in there—underneath the armor, beneath the scars—waiting for her turn.

And I think I owe it to both of us to let her rise.

#DeepFeelings #HealingThroughPain #UnbrokenSelf #DreamsOfFreedom #EmotionalAwakening #FindingPeaceWithin