They tell me “time will fix it”, like time was ever kind
They think sleepless nights and shaking hands can just be left behind
Try to hand me all the answers like they fit every scar
But they don’t hear the silence or know how deep these cuts are
I’ve swallowed every sermon, every “you’ll be okay”
But some wounds don’t disappear, just because you pray


I’m not broken for surviving
I’m not weak because I feel
Others don’t get to draw the map
Of everything that’s real


So don’t tell me how to heal
Don’t tell me how to breathe
You weren’t there inside the fire
When it buried part of me

Don’t tell me “let it go”
Like pain’s some cheap appeal
I’ll crawl my own way out of this
But don’t tell me how to heal


I’m learning how to carry, what never fully leaves
Turning pain into reminders, not excuses on my sleeve
And maybe healing isn’t pretty, some days it’s rage and tears
Maybe it’s simply waking up alive after drowning for years

I don’t need your perfect ending
Or your polished way to feel
This heart still beats beneath all this
And that alone is real


So don’t tell me how to heal
Don’t tell me who to be
You don’t know the weight I drag
Or what it took to carry me
Don’t call the darkness weakness
Don’t say it isn’t real
I’ll find my own way through the night
But don’t tell me how to heal

Maybe healing looks like screaming
Maybe healing’s standing still
Maybe it’s finally saying
“I survived, and always will”
Maybe healing isn’t soft hands
Maybe healing fights to live
Maybe I’m still learning
How to take what life can give


So don’t tell me how to heal, just sit with me awhile
Don’t turn my pain into a lesson, or force another smile
I’m not asking for your rescue, i'm just asking you to feel
That I’m still here, still breathing, and that’s my way to heal


Don’t tell me how to heal…
Just don’t leave while I do.