You Do Not Need to Shrink

The house is quiet now, but your mind is loud with the rehearsal. You are practicing the apology before you even speak, smoothing out the edges of your existence so you take up less room.

You brace for the impact of your own voice, certain that your presence is an inconvenience to be managed. But listen — the light does not ask you to shrink.

It does not require you to apologize for the space you occupy. There is a truth living inside you that needs no defense, no pre-emptive surrender.

It simply is. You are not a burden that needs to be justified.

You are a drop from the light, sent here to illuminate, not to hide. The silence of this hour is not waiting for your excuse.

It is waiting for your voice, exactly as it is.