Dear Me,
I forgive you for not knowing how to love perfectly from the start.
You were doing the best you could with the tools you had,
and your love — even when messy — was always real.
I forgive you for the moments when fear spoke louder than your heart,
for the times you over-gave, over-explained, or fought to be seen.
Those moments were never weakness;
they were your soul trying to protect your tender heart.
You are learning.
You are softening.
You are becoming the woman who loves with fire and with grace.
The past is not your prison.
Every misstep brought you here —
to a place where love can deepen because you are awake now.
I forgive you.
I love you.
I’m proud of you for still choosing love, even when it hurts.
Hellènic Muse 