Letter to My Young Self

Dear Young Hellen,

I see you—sitting alone on that rough wooden bench, staring at the school gate, wondering if today will be the day they send you home for fees again. Your uniform is neat, but your heart is in turmoil. You clutch your books tightly, not just because they are your escape, but because they are your hope. You don’t say much, but I know your thoughts: Will I make it? Will my dreams survive this storm?

I wish I could sit beside you and tell you everything I know now. That the days of hunger, the nights of silent tears, and the mornings of forced smiles will not break you. That you will not just survive—you will rise.

You will doubt yourself more times than you can count. You will stare at rejection letters, fight back tears at missed opportunities, and wonder if life is mocking you. There will be days when the weight of it all will feel unbearable—days when you’ll think of giving up. But listen to me, young dreamer: Hold on just a little longer.

One day, your name will appear in places you never imagined. Your words will be read by people across the world. The same stories you scribble in your worn-out notebook, the same dreams they said were too big, will become the very thing that lifts you. You will write—not just for yourself, but for the girls who come after you. The ones who sit where you once sat, staring at closed doors, afraid their voices will never be heard.

You will learn that power is not in where you come from, but in where you choose to go. That your past does not define you—your resilience does. That even when life gives you a thousand reasons to quit, you only need one reason to keep going: Because you were born to rise.

So, dear young Hellen, keep writing. Keep dreaming. Keep fighting. The world may not see you yet, but one day, it will. And when that day comes, when your words touch lives and your story inspires another girl to believe in herself, you will understand—this was always your destiny.

With love,

My Future Self.