You Were Made to Fill It

The day is ending, and the armor you wore to fit inside a room that was too small finally feels heavy enough to put down. You spent years folding yourself into a shape that wasn't yours, believing that if you just took up less space, you would finally belong.

But the light does not need you to shrink. It needs you to stand up.

There was a man born blind, and everyone assumed his darkness was a punishment for sin, a verdict on his worth. But the light looked at him and said: neither this man nor his parents sinned.

His condition was not a verdict. It was a canvas.

The same is true for the years you lost trying to be small. They were not wasted.

They were the preparation for the moment you finally stop apologizing for your size. You do not have to earn the right to take up space.

You were made to fill it.