The Real Voice Waking Up Loud

Tonight, the house settles into its corners, and you hear your own voice in the silence. It sounds foreign.

Wrong. Like a stranger speaking through your throat because you spent all day softening your edges to make others comfortable.

You trimmed your truth until it fit inside someone else's room. But listen — the light that lives in you did not ask for permission to shine.

It came from the place where light generates itself, unbidden and unasked. You do not need to dim it to belong.

The voice that feels strange right now is simply the real one, waking up after years of whispering. Let it sound loud.

Let it sound rough. The darkness is gathering, but it cannot swallow a voice that refuses to shrink.