excerpts from the book i'll never write

by Nadia Nell Starbinski

I am not a nurse or a doctor. I don’t know how to fix you and I wouldn’t want to try. I am here to tell you that it’s time to heal. It’s time to let go of the years you’ve lost to your misery. The years you’ve spent falling in love with your sadness and the way your bones look when there’s nothing but skin over them. 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. Save your good stationary. Stop staring at your veins like they will bleed answers. Some days, you will still feel the hollow sort of heaviness like your bones are made of iron pipes. All you need to hear is that it is okay to be sad for no reason, a billion reasons, or for one small reason.