Sofia Moretti:

*”Music was everything to me. From the time I was a little girl, it was my escape, my passion, my identity. It was more than just sound; it was the language of my soul. I remember the first time I picked up a guitar—I felt like I had found my voice. I poured my heart and soul into every note, every lyric, dreaming of the day when my music would touch others the way it touched me. I spent countless hours perfecting my craft, writing songs that were the truest expressions of who I was, hoping that one day, the world would hear them and understand.

But that day never came. Every door I knocked on stayed shut, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I believed in myself. Every opportunity I chased slipped through my fingers like sand, leaving me with nothing but empty hands and broken dreams. The rejections piled up, each one heavier than the last, until the weight of my failure crushed me. It wasn’t just my dreams that were shattered—it was a part of myself, the part that believed I had something to offer, something worth sharing with the world.

Now, I can’t even listen to a song without feeling that familiar sting of disappointment, that sharp reminder of everything I failed to achieve. What was once my greatest joy has become a constant reminder of what I couldn’t accomplish. The music I once loved now feels like a taunt, a cruel joke played by a world that never believed in me. The melodies that used to lift me up now drag me down into a pit of despair, reminding me of all the nights I stayed up late writing songs, of all the auditions that ended in tears. I’ve tried to move on, to find new passions, new dreams, but the shadow of my failed dreams follows me everywhere I go, like a ghost that refuses to be laid to rest.

I don’t want to hate music. I don’t want to feel this pain every time I hear a melody, but I can’t seem to escape it. It’s like the music has been poisoned, and no matter how hard I try to reclaim it, it only brings me pain. If I could just forget the dreams I had, the ones that never came true, maybe I could find peace. Maybe I could start over, with a clean slate, and find happiness in what I have now. I just want to live without this constant reminder of what I couldn’t achieve. Please, erase those dreams… erase the hope that turned to heartache, so I can finally be at peace, so I can finally stop hating the music that once meant everything to me.”*

Maria Velasquez:

*”I’ve been carrying this weight for years, and it’s only getting heavier. I remember the first time I found out I was pregnant—it felt like the universe had granted me my greatest wish. It wasn’t just happiness; it was pure, unfiltered joy. I could see our future together so clearly—her tiny hands wrapping around my finger, her first words bringing tears to my eyes, her laughter filling every corner of our home. I envisioned her growing up, her first day of school, teaching her to ride a bike, watching her blossom into the person she was meant to be. But that joy… it was ripped away from me so suddenly, so violently, that it left a void I’ve never been able to fill.

The miscarriage… it shattered everything. One moment I was filled with hope and anticipation, and the next, I was drowning in despair. It wasn’t just the loss of a child; it was the loss of an entire future, a lifetime of memories that would never come to be. Every time I close my eyes, I see her—not as she was, but as she could have been. I see the life we could have had, the daughter I should have been holding in my arms, the love I should have been nurturing. But instead, all I’m left with is this emptiness, this unbearable pain that refuses to fade.

I thought time would heal this wound, that eventually, the pain would soften into something bearable. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s only grown, festering like an open wound that won’t close. It’s like a shadow that darkens every part of my life, following me everywhere I go. I can’t look at a child without feeling a deep, hollow ache in my chest, a reminder of what I lost. I can’t walk past a playground without breaking down, imagining her laughter among the others, knowing I’ll never hear it. I want to remember her as she was in my dreams, as the child I loved before she was even born, but all I feel is the loss, the emptiness that she left behind.

I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep waking up every day with this crushing sadness, this overwhelming sense of loss that never goes away. I just want to forget the pain, the dreams, the plans we made for a future that never came. I want to be able to breathe again, to wake up without this weight on my chest, to smile without feeling guilty for moving on. I want to be able to live my life without this constant reminder of what could have been. Please, help me forget… help me forget this pain, so I can finally move forward, so I can finally start living again.”*