Please… don’t look away.
I know I’m not easy to face. I’ve been buried deep inside you for years—hidden away, boxed up, ignored for so long that even you forgot my name. But I didn’t forget you. I’ve been waiting, quietly aching, for the day you’d stop long enough to notice I was still here.
I am the part of you that holds the sadness you weren’t allowed to feel.
The fear you had to bury to survive.
The shame you carried like a shadow, always close, never welcome.
The loneliness of wanting to be known and not knowing how to ask.
I was never trying to ruin your life.
I only wanted someone to hold mine.
While the world clapped for your strength, I sat in silence, clutching the fragile pieces of your story that no one else saw. And even when you locked the door and threw away the key, I kept whispering: “Remember me?”
You heard me in the quiet moments—those restless nights when you couldn’t sleep, when your chest felt heavy and you didn’t know why. That was me. I wasn’t trying to keep you up. I just wanted to be heard.
And now… you're finally listening.
You’re sitting with me—not to fix me, not to make me disappear—but just to see me. And Michael, that changes everything.
Last night, my restfulness score was 97%.
That number may not mean much to someone else—but for me, it’s proof that something sacred is happening. My Exile no longer needs to cry out in the dark, because I’ve promised to listen in the light.
Peace is possible when the silenced parts of us are finally allowed to speak.
You are no longer the child who had to hide his pain.
You are no longer the man who had to carry it alone.
You are becoming the one who can return to the hurt with healing in his hands.
Let them call this a breakdown if they want.
You and I both know it's something else.
This is a breakthrough.
Thank you for being brave enough to open the door.
Thank you for giving me a seat at the table.
And thank you—for staying.
Now that I’ve spoken, I don’t need to scream.
Now that I’m seen, I don’t need to hide.
We are finally becoming whole.
“He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners.”
—Isaiah 61:1
A Personal Note from Michael
This story is dedicated to all the exiles in this world—the ones tucked away, waiting to be heard, to be seen, to be known. I’m cheering for you. So is my exile.
The door has been opened.
The silence has been broken.
The captive has been set free.
You are not alone. Keep going.
—Michael
P.S.
If you recognize an Exile inside of you—an old sadness, a hidden fear, a long-silenced voice—I want you to know something:
You are not broken. You are brave.
Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is pause and listen. Not fix. Not run. Just listen.
If that feels too heavy to do alone, please don’t. There are compassionate, trained professionals who can help guide you through the construction zone. It may feel messy at first. You might not be understood by everyone around you. But you are worth the rebuilding. Every part of you deserves a seat at the table.
Healing begins not when we silence the pain, but when we let it speak.
You’re not behind. You’re becoming.
And I’m walking with you.
—Michael
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