excerpts from the book i'll never write

by Nadia Nell Starbinski

Lastly, this is for myself. Who’s doubting of my integrity and refusal to live to my potential went on for way too long.

I’ve spent all hours of the night contemplating the words to say to you, but no combination of twenty-six different letters could ever accurately capture even a sliver of what this feeling is.

Being in love with you feels like falling into your bed after a long day at work. Like this is where I am supposed to be. I just look at you and I am home.

Some nights I think about dying and some nights I think about living till I break.

I think there are people that you are supposed to let into your life, and I think that by design they are meant to leave and you are never supposed to speak again.

Because you will know that it is physically impossible for something so random and so perfect to happen twice. Whenever the streets flood with rain, you will think of them. They will be the dark shadow in your dreams, the black figure that you can never catch up to no matter how quickly you try to run.

Stop planning out your funeral and stop writing your suicide note. Save your energy for the love letters you will have to write one day.

All you need to hear is that it is okay to be sad for no reason, a billion reasons, or for one small reason.

On days like this, there are only a couple things you must remember: you’ve been through worse before. You are limitless. The things you are capable of are infinite. There is someone waiting to tell you how proud they are of you for making it this far. I am writing this to tell you that it’s time to let go of your walls, your ceiling, your floor and grab onto the sky.

the hero to my own story.