Dear Little Me: A Love Letter to the Girl I Used to Be
Sweet girl,
I see you.
I remember how much you tried.
You always wanted to be “good,” even when the world around you wasn’t.
How you silenced your needs to keep the peace.
How you learned to shrink, survive, stay quiet, and be strong — far too early.
You were a child… and still carried things meant for grown women.
I Know You Were Scared
I know you were scared when the people you trusted most didn’t protect you.
I know you learned to be invisible because it felt safer than being hurt.
I know you thought love had to be earned — that your worth was tied to how useful, obedient, or unbothered you could be.
But baby girl… you were always worthy.
Not for what you did.
Not for how much you endured.
But simply because you existed.
I’m Writing to Say: You’re Free Now
You don’t have to perform anymore.
You don’t have to carry guilt that doesn’t belong to you.
You don’t have to apologize for crying, asking, resting, or feeling.
You can be loud.
You can be soft.
You can be messy and radiant and real.
And I-the woman you’ve become—will never, ever abandon you again.
What You Deserved Then (And Still Deserve Now)
- To be held when you were tired
- To be protected when you were vulnerable
- To be heard without being fixed
- To be believed, even when your voice trembled
- To be seen fully, without needing to shrink or explain
A Prompt for the Reader:
What would you say if you could sit beside your younger self for just five minutes? What would you want her to know?
Final Word:
To every Black woman reading this who still hears the echo of her younger self…
She’s still there.
Waiting to be held.
Waiting to be chosen.
Waiting for the moment you finally turn around and say, “I see you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
This is that moment.
Write her back.
Hold her close.
Let her cry.
And remind her that she’s no longer alone.
You are the safe place she always needed.
With love,
Amari Sky
She Who Rises