You're the One

What if you’re the one to see it differently? What if you’re the one who’s right, even when it feels like everyone around you just doesn’t get it? What if you’re the one with the map to the future, the solution to the problem, the idea that flips the whole thing on its head? What if you’re the one to stand up, point to the cracks, and say, hey, we can fix this? Or maybe you’re the one who knows that fixing it isn’t the point at all—that sometimes letting things break is how we find our way to something better. What if you’re the one to make peace with that?

What if you’re the one to love harder than you’ve ever let yourself? What if you’re the one to hold the door open, to sit back down and listen just a little longer, to be patient when your heart’s pounding out of your chest because waiting is terrifying and loving is terrifying and admitting you care is a whole different beast? What if you’re the one she’s been looking for, the one who makes her laugh when she’s had a day that makes her want to move to some remote island with no Wi-Fi? What if you’re the one who tells her it’s okay to cry and be anxious because you’re not going anywhere, and it’s not too much, and she’s not too much?

What if you’re the one to break the chain? What if you’re the one to look at how it’s always been done and decide, not this time, not me? What if you’re the one to finally put down the heavy stuff your family’s been dragging around for generations and say, I’m not carrying this anymore? What if you’re the one to turn the anger into forgiveness, the resentment into compassion? What if you’re the one to give yourself permission to just be happy? Imagine that. What if it’s allowed, and it’s possible, and it’s not selfish at all? What if you’re the one who doesn’t need to justify feeling good, who doesn’t need to have earned joy by first surviving something awful?

What if you’re the one to take the risk, to leave the project that drains you, to move to the thing you always dreamed of, to make wierd shit and laugh at it, to finally write the story that’s been tapping on your shoulder for years? What if you’re the one who understands that a life lived fully isn’t about being fearless, but about doing shit anyway, even when your hands shake?

What if you’re the one to show up when no one else does? What if you’re the one to call back, to follow up, to remember a random Tuesday from three years ago when they mentioned loving crispy croissants and show up with one in a little paper bag? What if you’re the one to see the patterns, to recognize that everyone’s hurting and everyone’s lonely and sometimes all we need is for someone to notice? What if you’re the one to make people feel seen in a comfortable way, to feel worthwhile?

What if you’re the one to forgive yourself? For all the times you tried and fell flat on your face, for all the messages you didn’t send, the calls you didn’t make, the plans you canceled because it just felt like too much. What if you’re the one who gets it wrong and still keeps going? What if you’re the one who finally learned how to be kind to yourself—not just when it’s easy, but especially when it’s not? What if you’re the one who doesn’t just move on from mistakes, but moves through them, learning and softening and becoming more and more brave each time?

What if being true to yourself is what really matters—that there’s nothing to prove, no grand validation to chase? What if simply existing with all the quirks, flaws, and contradictions is already worthy of acceptance? What if the value isn’t in achievements or perfection, but in the way life is lived and felt and shared?

What if the story doesn’t have to be about becoming something greater or more complete, but just about being—messy, complicated, and real? What if the world doesn’t need a polished version, but just an honest one, the version that stays curious, stays soft, and dares to keep trying despite everything?

What if that’s not just okay, but it’s the whole point?