Coffee Trend

If I were to sit down for coffee with my younger self, 18-year-old me wouldn’t have shown up. She’d be curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling, drowning in a silence that screamed louder than words. At 18, my world had been shattered. Trust—something so fragile—was obliterated by someone who took what wasn’t theirs to take. Friends I thought I could lean on? They vanished when I needed them most.

I’d sit beside her, not saying much at first. Just being there. Then I’d tell her: You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to cry, to feel broken. But don’t let one person’s cruelty define your life. His time will come, and so will yours.

I’d remind her that not everyone will betray her. One day, she’ll find friends who will stand by her through the darkest nights. The ones who left? Forget them. Their absence is their loss, not hers.

I’d urge her to step outside, to let nature stitch together the pieces of her soul. To find something—anything—that ignites a spark of passion and helps her forget, even for a moment. Healing isn’t linear, and the shadows of those dark days will linger, but they don’t have to consume the future.

Not every man is cruel. Not every friend will turn away. There’s light in the world, even when it feels impossible to see. Keep shining, even when it feels like the world is trying to snuff you out. Be yourself. Lean on those who prove they’re worthy of your trust.