The FlameKeeper Collective

A Letter From My Higher Self to My Inner Orphan

Beloved,

Come here.

Sit with me for a moment.

You don’t have to stand on guard anymore.

I know you learned early that pain was proof.

That survival was the only language anyone listened to.

That if you kept enduring—kept burning—kept proving—you might finally be chosen, believed, or protected.

You thought fire was the entrance fee to existence.

But listen to me now, and listen closely:

You do not have to keep walking through fire to prove you’re real.

You were real the first time you cried and no one came.

You were real when you learned to self-soothe instead of being soothed.

You were real when you made yourself smaller to survive loud adults and silent rooms.

You were real before strength hardened your softness into armor.

I see how you learned to equate suffering with worth.

How endurance became identity.

How being “the strong one” kept you alive—but also kept you bleeding quietly.

That chapter is over.

You don’t need to be wounded to be worthy.

You don’t need chaos to be seen.

You don’t need to keep sacrificing yourself on the altar of resilience.

I am here now.

I will stand between you and the fire.

I will choose you even when nothing is being proven.

I will let you rest without earning it.

I will let joy arrive without punishment following behind it.

You were never abandoned because you weren’t enough.

You were abandoned by those who didn’t know how to love what was luminous.

Put the torch down.

Your existence is not a performance.

Your pain is not your passport.

Your survival is not your purpose.

You are allowed to be held without burning first.

Come home to me.

I’ve been watching the whole time.

And I promise you this:

From here on out,

we live—not to prove—but to be.

—Your Higher Self

Your Protector

Your Witness

Your Flame, finally at rest 🔥