LET IT STAY. 🖤

Without holding on, how will you ever know it’s worth????

They say,
“Why hold on when it hurts this much?”

But I say

Without holding on, how will you ever know it's worth????

Giving birth hurts.

It tears through a woman,
takes everything she has,
leaves her exhausted, trembling,
and yet

she holds on.

Because somewhere beyond that pain
is a life she has been carrying inside her.

That pain doesn’t make her less of a mother.

Perhaps, in some strange way,
it is part of how she becomes one.

But what if she gives up halfway
because it hurts?

What if, in the middle of all that pain,
she decides she cannot take another moment?

Can you imagine
the life she would never get to hold?

Maybe some things in life are like that.

Maybe the pain isn’t always asking us to let go.

Maybe sometimes
it is asking us

How badly do you want to see
what lies beyond it?

When you choose to take something into your hands,
to hold it

then fucking hold it to the end.

If you can’t,
if you’re too afraid of the pain,
then leave it behind at the beginning.

Don’t pick it up,
don’t make it yours,
don’t promise to carry it
only to abandon it when it becomes heavy.

Leave it for someone else

someone brave enough to hold it,
someone with enough courage
to endure the weight,
the pain,
the bleeding hands,
and still say,

“I chose this.
So, I’ll carry it.”

I have always hated those three words

“Just let it go.”

As if something you once held close
can simply become weightless in your hands.

As if love has an exit door.
As if promises have an expiry.
As if everything we choose to carry
must be abandoned the moment it begins to hurt.

But tell me

when did pain become a reason to leave?

When you took it into your hands,
didn’t you know it could become heavy?

When you chose to hold it,
didn’t you know your palms might ache?

Then hold it.

Hold it when your fingers tremble.
Hold it when your hands are tired.
Hold it when the weight leaves marks on your skin.

Because perhaps some things
don’t reveal their worth
while they rest gently in our palms.

Perhaps their worth is revealed
when everything inside you is screaming,

“Put it down.” and yet, you don’t.

Because if you are brave enough to let it go,

aren’t you brave enough
to let it stay?

When the whole world stops being a shelter,

when every light you once knew
slowly turns its face away,

when the roads become unfamiliar
and even your own shadow
feels like a stranger

what do you hold?

Perhaps, in that endless dark,
there is only one thing left in your hands.

One fragile thing.

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One thing you chose
before you knew how heavy it would become.

And now it hurts.

God, how it hurts.

Your palms are tired.
Your fingers are trembling.
Every part of you is begging
to loosen its grip.

And the world keeps whispering,

“Let it go.”

As though letting go
is always courage.

But what if it isn’t?

What if sometimes
the bravest thing a human being can do
is to keep holding
when there is no light left
to prove that what they’re holding
is worth it?

Because perhaps you don’t understand its worth
while the sun is shining.

Perhaps you understand it
only when the night comes,

when everything else disappears
and that one thing
is the only warmth left
between your hands.

Maybe the weight
was never meant to be a punishment.

Maybe it was meant to teach your hands
how to hold something precious.

So let the world leave.

Let the lights go out.

Let the night stretch
as far as it wants.

But if there is still something
you believe is worth carrying

hold it.

With trembling hands.
With tired fingers.
With whatever strength remains.

Because if you were brave enough
to take it into your hands,

if you were brave enough
to love it,

if you were brave enough
to carry it into the darkness

then perhaps,

you are brave enough
to let it stay.

Once, a wise man said,

“Suffering is the only key to end the suffering.”

And that wise man

was me.

I stood there,
speaking to this cruel world
as though I had finally understood
the language of pain.

I told it,

perhaps suffering is not always
the thing we must escape.

Perhaps sometimes
we have to walk through it,
bleed through it,
feel every inch of it,

until one day,

it finally grows tired of us.

Until the pain has nothing left to teach.

Until suffering itself
becomes the reason
we learn how to stop suffering.

And maybe that is the cruelest paradox of being human

sometimes,
the only way out of the fire
is to walk through it.

And at the end,
I just want to ask you one simple question:

What is the whole point of living?
What is the point of life?

If any of you have an answer,
let me know.

Because I have an answer too.

But I’ll save that
for the next one.

Until then,
tell me what you think life is for.

See ya ❤…