Stefan’s review published on Letterboxd:
Since I was a child, I don't feel like I am enough. I don't feel like someone worth of love, worth of friends and worth of happiness. Maybe it's due to endless hours of crying during my childhood and the constant feeling of not being loved for the person I truly am, but what do I know. My life as a whole doesn't feel worth, being trapped in a gigantic black hole, unable to reach out for help and without having enough strength to appropriately check for my mental health, doesn't feel worth enduring for some brief moments of happiness and joy.
I still vividly remember one moment in my life - I was probably eleven or twelve years old and layed in bed after crying because my mother again shouted at me for whateve reason. Even though I wasn't able to imagine what a happy family and a loving space feels like - and I still am not to be honest - I looked outside the window in my room. I looked at the sky and tried to visually imagine a happy family floating through the clouds, tried to keep a spark of hope for a better future. And it worked. I really felt better, at least for a short time.
This film might be flawed, sometimes overly cheesy and even too exaggerated to be taken seriously by some, but I couldn't be more thankful for its existence. A Silent Voice understands me in a way only very few films do. Most importantly: it helps me to keep that spark of hope I had back then as a child. It helps me remembering there are many people who love me and care for me. It helps me remembering that I don't have to go through it all alone. It helps me to feel like deserving a place in this world.
"I was talking to you before coming here. It was within a dream. Looks like I was trying to give up on everything. But that wasn't right. I felt the same way as you forever, but I realized it didn't mean that I deserved to die."