Dear Younger Me,
I know you’re tired—trying to prove you belong in rooms no one invited you into, giving your work away to be liked, respected, seen. I know you think kindness is your currency and trust is just the cost of entry.
You’re generous. You believe in people. You want to help others build something great, and you’re willing to give everything you have—your time, your skill, your art—to make that happen.
But here’s what you don’t know yet:
There will be people who take. And take.
And never give anything back.
You will be called difficult the first time you say no.
You will be ignored the first time you send a bill.
You will be blocked when you ask to be paid fairly.
You will learn the hard way that a handshake is not a contract.
That “friends” who praise you publicly may undermine you privately.
That passion without protection can leave you broken.
But you will also learn this:
Your value doesn’t decrease just because someone refuses to honor it.
Your kindness is not a flaw. It just needs boundaries.
And the ones who walk away when you finally stand up? Let them go.
You will survive. And then you will rise.
You will get clearer. Stronger. Sharper.
You’ll trade one-sided loyalty for real partnerships.
You’ll say no with grace and yes with confidence.
And you’ll build something that’s not just beautiful—it’s sustainable.
So keep your softness. But protect your time.
Stay generous. But guard your labor.
Be bold enough to keep creating—but wise enough to know that your art is not a favor. It’s a profession. It’s a legacy.
You are worth more than what others are willing to give.
With love and hindsight,
Me—now.
