the ease with which they seem to carry themselves. And the truth? It’s exhausting.

Sometimes I catch myself envying confidence like it’s a tangible object I could just… borrow. 😔 Other times, I’m proud of my little victories: staying calm when chaos erupts, finishing something I started even when no one cares, or simply surviving another day that feels heavier than it should. But still, the whisper of “why not her?” never fully goes away.

I wonder if the problem isn’t them at all, but me. Maybe I’ve built this invisible scoreboard in my head where every glance, every compliment, every casual conversation becomes a measure of my success—or my failure. 🧩 And yet, the more I notice it, the more absurd it seems. Why should anyone else’s life define the value of mine?

And then there’s the hardest question of all: do I secretly want to feel smaller because it justifies my fears, or do I really want to step out of the shadow I’ve cast over myself? 🌒 It’s terrifying to admit that maybe my own judgment is the loudest voice I’ll ever have to face.

Can someone truly celebrate others and still love themselves, or is that the illusion we’ve be