I am often called strong.
They say: “You are so independent, steadfast, confident.”
And I smile. But only I know how much pain and silence lie behind this strength.

I learned to hold on when I wanted to fall.
To continue working when my soul was screaming.
To support others when I myself wanted to just… disappear for a few days.
Yes, I have become strong. But this strength is not given — it is begged for, suffered, endured 💔

Sometimes I want to say: “I don’t always want to be strong.”
I want to be alive. Tired. Gentle.
I want someone to hug me — not because I am weak, but because I am a living person.

Strength is not armor. It is the sky after the storm.
And I allow myself: to be different. To be myself 🌿