the day you stop apologizing
you walk into rooms, shrinking yourself, as if your heartbeat, needs permission.
you were taught to say sorry, for taking up space, for laughing too loud, for wanting to stay.
but your softness is not a crime, your body, your past, your fears, are not warnings, they are evidence, that you kept living, when it would’ve been easier, to disappear.
you, as you are, messy, healing, uncertain, are already enough, to be chosen, to be cherished, to be loved.





















