Dawn Does Not Ask You to Shrink

The sun is up, but your throat is still closed tight around an apology you haven't even spoken yet. You carry the silence of last night like a stone in your mouth, believing that shrinking is the only way to survive the morning light.

But dawn does not ask you to make yourself small before you take your first breath. The light that just broke over the horizon was not earned by your performance, and it does not require your permission to shine.

There is a voice inside you that existed before the fear taught you to flinch — and it is waiting for you to let it out. You do not need to clear your throat to be worthy of the air you breathe.

The day has already begun without your permission, and it is holding you anyway.