A Chance

You gave me a chance

when they had already decided

I was done.

When my mistakes were louder

than my effort,

when my name came with footnotes,

when worth felt conditional

and temporary.

They saw my failures

and stopped there.

You saw the space after—

the trying,

the rebuilding,

the quiet work no one applauds.

You didn’t flinch at my history.

Didn’t ask me to explain

every scar.

You just handed me room

to be more

than what broke me.

You believed in a version of me

I was still learning how to trust.

You treated me like someone

becoming—

not someone ruined.

And maybe you’ll never know

how much that mattered.

How being given a chance

can feel like oxygen

when you’ve been holding your breath

for years.

You gave me a chance

when they thought I was worthless—

and in doing so,

you reminded me

I never was.