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IF YOU CHECKED ANY OF THOSE BOXES...
You’re not weak.
You’re exhausted
from surviving silently.
You’ve been carrying more
than you ever let anyone see.
And the fact that you’re still here
means something in you hasn’t given up —
even if it feels like it has.
This page wasn’t created by someone
who “figured everything out.”
It was written by someone
who stayed
ONE MORE DAY
when that felt impossible.
You don’t need to perform here.
You don’t need to explain.
You’re allowed to just exist
for a moment.
Some days, thinking clearly isn’t possible.
On those days, you don’t need advice.
You need something steady.
Something that doesn’t judge you.
Something that doesn’t rush you.
Something that reminds you
you’re not alone — even when your mind says you are.
THAT'S WHY THIS EXIST.
Most people don’t arrive here
because they were ready to talk.
They arrive because something
has been weighing on them —
or because they’re carrying concern
for someone else.
So before you continue,
take a moment with these questions.
You don’t need to answer them out loud.
Just notice what comes up.
Whatever answers surfaced for you, they’re valid.
And whatever brought you here — for yourself,
for someone you love, or for reasons you can’t fully name yet —
YOU ARE WELCOME HERE.
If those questions stirred something,
you’re not alone.
Most people don’t need more advice.
They need something steady
when their thoughts stop feeling safe.
This isn’t about fixing yourself
or figuring everything out.
It’s about having something nearby
for the moments when staying present
is the hardest thing you’re asked to do.
What you’re about to see
was created for exactly those moments.
Take a look.
There’s no pressure to decide yet.
Still Here
This isn’t a book you power through.
It’s something you keep close
for the moments when the weight feels unbearable
and your thoughts start pulling you under.
When anxiety tightens your chest.
When depression makes everything feel distant.
When it feels like the world is on your shoulders
and somehow you couldn’t be any smaller.
Still Here is a life vest
in the middle of that sea.
Not something that demands strength.
Not something that tells you to swim harder.
Just something to hold onto
when anguish comes in waves
and you’re not sure how much longer
you can tread water on your own.
Some pages are only a paragraph.
Some are anchors.
Some are quiet reminders
that you are not alone in this moment.
You don’t read it to finish it.
You reach for it
when staying afloat is enough.
Most people don’t find this
because they’re ready to talk.
They find it because:
-
they’re tired of pretending
-
or they’re quietly struggling themselves
-
or they’re scared for someone they love
-
or they want a way to help
without saying the wrong thing
So instead of asking,
“Do I want this?”
We ask something gentler.
Who would you want to have this on a day they don’t know how to ask for help?
For Me
I want this for myself.
Something steady for the days that feel unsteady.
For Someone I Love
I want one for me
and one for someone I care about.
Most people don’t reach out when they’re struggling.
Having this already in their hands can matter more than the perfect words.
For a Stranger
I want to keep one for myself
and make sure someone I’ll never meet
isn’t alone when they need this.
Shared anonymously. Given with care.
A Quiet Safety Net
I want to make sure the people I love — and a few I may never know — aren’t alone if things ever get heavy.
Includes:
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Multiple copies
-
A printed note: “I’m here if you ever need this”
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Access to a private resource page