Dear Syida,

The little secrets kept from them piles up to form a wall. Constructed with guilt-ridden bricks. And soon, it becomes so solid, you begin to lean your weight on it. To relish in it's disastrous presence, undermining the consequences for the fear of it being known has been thrashed out. The possibility of the secrecy faltering thins every single day. And when this wall is demolished, one way or another, we fall. Fall so hard. Fall so deep. And all these white secrets comes crumbling back at you filling your weary heart with utter self-disgust. To be showered with menacing glances, and hateful regrets. You'll wish you were never born. This phase should never take place. But it did, dearest, it did. And to counter from this fall, you must make a breakthrough from all this dysphoria engulfing you. You mustn't look back while you're climbing up. Look ahead so the light can guide you. Take it from me, you'll never succeed without failing. Redeem yourself, because I know what you're worth. Be strong. Iloveyoutodeathandbeyond.

Myra.