The world leans on you, doesn’t it? Its weight, its chaos, its expectations—all resting quietly on your shoulders. It’s an unspoken truth: when things fall apart, they always turn to you. Time and again, you are the steady hand, the quiet anchor, the one who carries burdens that aren’t always your own. And yet, the love you pour out so generously is rarely returned in the same measure.

It’s unfair, isn’t it? But here’s what I’ve come to understand, as a firstborn daughter myself: we are not here to receive in kind. The universe, in its infinite wisdom, has made us vessels of giving. What you give to others will return to you, not from those you’ve helped, but from the most unexpected places. You pour yourself into people who may never repay you, but life has a way of sending blessings through strangers, through moments of grace you could never have anticipated. And that, my loves, is the beauty of your journey—it’s humbling, vulnerable, and profoundly beautiful.

You see, as firstborn daughters, we carry a unique gift. We see the cracks where love is missing, and we instinctively try to fill them. We sense where someone is hurting and rush to heal. We create, we nurture, we give—sometimes to the point of breaking—because we cannot bear to see others fall apart. It’s as if we were born to mend what the world has torn. And in doing so, we find ourselves, piece by piece.

But there’s a cost. You know it well. The sacrifices we make often go unnoticed. The battles we fight—for others, for ourselves—are invisible to most. Yet we fight them anyway, because we believe that if we don’t, no one else will. We are the ones who stand in the gap, who hold the weight of justice and love in our hands, trying to balance the scales even when it feels impossible.

We give until it hurts because another broken soul feels like a betrayal of our own pain. It’s as if all we’ve endured would be wasted if we couldn’t turn it into healing for someone else. But here’s the truth you must never forget: you are not just a giver. You are worthy of receiving, too. And though it might not come from the people you’ve helped, it will come. It always does. The world has a way of recognizing the hearts that carry it.

So, to my fellow firstborn daughters, I ask this: forgive. Not just others, but yourself. Forgive those who cannot say the words, those who didn’t show up for you, those who let you down. And forgive yourself for feeling the anger and guilt that come with loving so deeply. These emotions are heavy, I know. But you are stronger than the weight of them.

Live your life with the same unwavering morals and high standards that have always set you apart. Because I promise you, the good you do does not go unnoticed. Somewhere out there, someone who has never met you will feel the ripple of your sacrifices. They’ll see the strength you’ve poured into the world, and they’ll carry it forward in their own way.

You, my love, are a force of nature. You’ve walked through fire and emerged stronger. The pain you’ve endured has not been in vain—it has shaped you, refined you, and made you into the extraordinary soul you are today.

So keep going. Keep loving. Keep believing in the beauty of your journey. Because the best things in life often come after the hardest battles. And you, firstborn daughter, are destined for something extraordinary.

With all my love,
A fellow firstborn daughter