Stop Rehearsing Your Right to Exist

The afternoon light is harsh enough to show you the script you are memorizing in the mirror. You rehearse the perfect explanation for your existence so you won't have to stumble when a stranger asks who you are tomorrow.

But the light does not need your defense. There was a man born blind, and the neighbors argued over how he came to be, demanding a reason for his condition.

The light ignored their debate entirely. It simply opened his eyes.

You are spending your energy building a case for your right to be here, when the verdict was settled before you drew breath. The one who made you does not require your testimony to justify your place in the world.

Stop practicing the speech. The light already knows your name, and it needs no introduction.