You Are Not a Burden to Love

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels heavy with everything you didn't say today. You lie awake rehearsing every conversation, convinced that your needs are a weight too heavy for the people you love to carry.

You are ready to disappear just to give them some relief. But listen — the light does not measure your worth by how little space you take up.

There was a man once who had lost everything, even his own mind, and when he begged to leave, the light told him to stay home and tell his story. Your presence is not a burden to be managed.

It is a story waiting to be told. The very thing you think makes you too much is the thing that makes you necessary.

You are not the weight on their shoulders; you are the reason they get to practice love.