I Forgive You

A silhouette of a person sitting on a bench, looking away, holding a heart-shaped balloon against a soft background.

Introduction💙

How in the world could I not repost this? Just reading it again brought on the tears.

Can I be honest? Even when life is good—when it’s full of laughter, love, and blessings—there’s still a quiet war going on inside. When you’ve walked through fire, kept secrets, and always played the role of the “good one,” that feeling of worth, of truly being alive… it gets complicated. Some days it’s a pep talk with Jesus just to get out of bed. Some days it’s a full-blown conversation that lasts all day long.

And honestly? That gets exhausting.

I still carry things. I’m still protecting people—sometimes myself—and even though I’ve forgiven, even though I am okay… the memories don’t always stay quiet. No one really knows what it costs to walk around smiling with all that weight. No one but God and me.

I truly won’t be free from this burnden of knowing and holding… until my last day. But here I am. Still here. Still choosing life.

And I do love life—my kids, my husband, our laughter, the love we share, the pups snuggled at my feet. My sisters, the little things, the people who see me- they get it. But still… there’s that heaviness that lives in the corners. I can’t change the past. I couldn’t then, and I can’t now.

But I am still loved. Broken, yes. But still…loved and through the cracks light shines through. So I am sharing this poem again. I wrote this in 2022… and hits just the same.

Jesus gave it all—so I could still be here.

—Skelly

I forgive you, little dreamer,
for tucking yourself away in fear,
for silencing your voice before it had the chance to rise.
So many doors stood open, yet you hesitated,
watching instead of stepping through.

I wish you had danced longer,
let laughter carry you higher,
and trusted in the magic of your own making.
You were always enough—
You didn’t know it.

I forgive you for waiting,
for hoping someone else would show the way.
No one was coming.
You had to carve the path yourself.

But oh, you were gifted—
an artist, a writer, a dreamer,
a heart that beat for the wild things.
The world did not always see it,
but it was there—
burning like a quiet ember beneath the doubt.

I forgive you for the walls you built,
for mistaking protection for isolation.
For keeping love at arm’s length,
because needing it hurt too much.

I understand.

I understand why the weight was unbearable,
why you thought of letting go,
why you carried shame like an old companion.
You were just a child,
shouldering burdens too big for small hands.

But hear this now—

No more guilt. No more pain. Be free.

It’s over.
The book is shut.
The door is closed.

And one more thing—

Thank you for not going through with it.
We are worth life.

SK-

If this poem speaks to your heart, share it. Let someone else know they aren’t alone. Leave a comment if you’ve ever had to forgive your younger self—or just needed to hear these words.

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