When I was younger, I used to keep a diary. Like every girl my age I used to write silly secrets. I was never one who spoke a lot, but with my dairy, I felt like an extrovert. I had so much to talk about. It was until one day, someone at school discovered it and exposed it to everyone that I felt like what once was a safe space, no longer served its purpose. In that moment, everyone could see the parts of my life that I kept hidden, I felt so helpless as there was nothing I could do. Maybe you call that bullying, but for me it was the beginning of something that cut deeper than I ever thought possible.

I carried this fear of letting people get too close to me, I began to be more conscious of what I shared about myself. In my friend groups, I eventually noticed that I became the friend who was just there to be a shoulder for everyone to cry on and dump all their emotional baggage, it was a coping mechanism. The more I focused on others, the less time I had to focus on me. I developed this fear to speak about my thoughts, instead I pushed them back. I struggled to express myself freely, fear of being judged. I found myself constantly reminded of how powerless I felt, as if I no longer had control over my own story. I was now defined by my insecurities and weaknesses.

The experiences we endure as children whether it is a broken home, emotional instability, abuse, bullying, rejection often resurfaces as we grow older. When these basic human rights are violated, they can leave lasting scars. Ignoring the roots, we jeopardise our youth by allowing these cycles to continue. Thus, fostering an environment of support and empowerment, can equip the next generation to thrive rather than merely surviving.  We cannot continue to turn a blind eye while hoping for different outcomes. We must heal that innocent child who has stopped holding their head up high. We must create a place of belonging where the voices of children are heard, for a brighter tomorrow.