Your Regret Is Not A Verdict

The morning light is unforgiving when it hits the screen, turning your old words into evidence against you. You scroll back through six months of conversations, hunting for the exact sentence where you became too much, too loud, too needy.

But the light that sees you now does not scan your history for errors—it sees only the heart that sent them. There was a man born blind, and his friends asked if his condition was a punishment for sin, a mistake to be traced back to a specific moment of failure.

The light answered that neither he nor his parents had sinned; the blindness was simply the canvas where glory would appear. Your regret is not a verdict.

It is the place where you are learning to see yourself without the filter of shame. The text messages you wish you could delete are not the definition of your worth.

They are the proof that you reached out while you were still learning how to walk on the water of relationship. You did not sink because you were too heavy.

You sank because you took your eyes off the one who was already holding you up.