She had already stepped out when she saw that the place she had mistaken for a shelter was really a prison, holding her back from so much more. She ran and never looked back, realizing that she never wanted to grow older only to look back on her younger days full of regrets for the things she had neglected while she was still free and capable of doing the things she truly wanted.
But everyone has to understand this: there comes a moment in every young person’s life when staying feels safer than leaving. For her, that moment stretched into months, maybe even years. She held on tightly to the things she thought defined her: relationships that felt familiar, routines she already knew by heart, and dreams that once made her feel grounded. She believed that if she let go, life would become too big, too loud, too overwhelming.
She wasn’t afraid of change; she was afraid of losing herself in it.
Every day felt like standing in a small room with open windows but no courage to step outside. She convinced herself that staying was the grown-up thing to do, that holding on meant loyalty, stability, and a sense of familiar comfort. But deep down, she knew the truth: she was shrinking just to fit into a space that no longer held space for her.
Leaving felt like betrayal. Leaving felt like failure. But, slowly, she realized that staying was hurting her more.
It happened quietly. A morning where she woke up a little heavier. A conversation that made her feel unseen. A night when her dreams felt farther away than ever. And somewhere in between, the person who once made her feel safe began to bruise her spirit more than he ever held it.
The softness in his voice turned sharp; the warmth of his presence became something she tiptoed around. She found herself apologizing for things she didn’t do, shrinking in spaces where she used to glow. She began to notice how much she was sacrificing just to keep the old version of her alive.
And then, one day, she made a choice—not a loud, dramatic one, just a soft decision whispered in the middle of an ordinary afternoon: It’s time to go.
Leaving didn’t magically make everything easier. She cried. She doubted herself. She questioned every step she took. But with each small step forward, she breathed a little deeper. The air felt lighter. The world felt bigger in a way that didn’t terrify her; instead, it invited her.
She discovered that the things she clung to, the ones she thought would keep her safe, were actually holding her back. They were walls she mistook for shelter. And in choosing to leave, she chose herself.
“To leave young” isn’t about abandoning your past; it’s about giving your future a chance. It’s trusting that growth sometimes requires breaking your own heart a little. It’s learning that letting go isn’t losing; it’s opening your hands to something new.
Now, she lives young, not because she wanted to leave everyone behind, but because she finally allowed herself to grow beyond the life that once limited her. She carries the lessons, not the weight. She walks lighter, not because the world changed, but because she finally did.
Sometimes, the bravest thing a young person can do is simply step out of the room that once felt like home.
And sometimes, the moment you leave is the moment you finally begin to live.
via Jocelyn Malicdem
