You Are Allowed to Take Up Space

The day is ending, and the armor is heavy. You are already rehearsing the apologies for tomorrow—for breathing too loud, for taking up space, for being a burden just by existing.

But listen. The light does not need you to shrink.

There was a man born blind, and the question was asked: who sinned? Was it him?

Was it his parents? The answer was neither.

His condition was not a debt to be paid or an apology to be whispered. It was a canvas for the works of God to be displayed.

You are not a mistake that needs correcting. You are a place where the light can shine.

Stop rehearsing the speech. The verdict has already been spoken, and it is not condemnation.

You are allowed to take up space.