You Do Not Have to Be Small

You are lying still in the dark, holding your breath because you are afraid your own movement will shatter the peace. You feel like a weight in the room, terrified that the sound of your morning routine will remind them they are tethered to your chaos.

But the light does not measure your worth by how quietly you can exist. What you are trying to hide — the noise, the need, the mess of being human — is already known, and it has not driven love away.

You do not have to earn your place in this house by making yourself small. The kingdom is not a reward for the invisible; it is spread out beneath you, right here on these floorboards, even in your disorder.

You are not a burden waiting to be discovered. You are a person waking up, and that is enough.