You Were Never Meant to Dim

We bend so we don’t break.

But at what expense?

And how far is too far — past an edge you’re comfortable with?

Past the point of no return?

We bend over backwards to be versions of ourselves that please others.

We distort ourselves to fit an idea of who we should be — rather than being who we are.

And after so long doing so, how easy it is to lose sight of who we are underneath all these versions we’ve so neatly crafted — at the core of them all.

At the heart of them all.

Who are you outside the versions of yourself you’ve molded into?

To please others?

To feel seen by them?

To be accepted by them?

You show up as anyone but yourself.

How exhausting that must feel.

Having to constantly walk on eggshells.

Having to constantly stay in character — even when you’re unraveling within at the dissonance between who you are and who you think you should be — is the performance of a lifetime.

It’s a performance that drains the soul.

**

How often are you manipulating your light?

How often are you bending your light?

Picking and choosing which parts of you you’ll allow to shine, depending on who’s receiving your light? All out of fear of being too bright for some people?

Because in doing so, you’re depriving others of the opportunity to be acquainted with your light.

To see for themselves just how brightly you’re capable of shining.

How often do we bask in the warmth of the sun without looking directly at it?

We don’t ask the sun to be anything other than what it is.

We wouldn’t dream of such a thing.

And when we squint on a sunny day, are we rejecting the light — or is that simply part of our experience of it?

**

Over time though, this is no longer a mere dimming of your light.

This is slowly depriving your light of oxygen — until one day, you forget it ever burned at all.

All under the banner of wanting to be loved.

All inevitably destined for failure.

Because it’s deceptive in nature — the acceptance and love you receive are conditional, with strings attached.

In this case, what you get — attention, affection, appreciation, acceptance — won’t truly be yours. And everything you’ve worked tirelessly for will feel further than ever — so close, yet perpetually out of reach.

Because it will all belong to the character you’ve built, the persona you’ve created.

Because what is truly for you — and I mean the real you, the one cowering beneath all the pretense — won’t ask anything of you.

What is for you won’t come with terms, conditions, or strings.

All it requires of you is to be you — in your entirety.

What is for you — who is for you — won’t snuff out your light.

They’ll celebrate it.

They’ll bathe in it.

They’ll bask in the warmth of your glow.

What is for you, won’t scare away by the different parts of you — by the one true version of you.

And you will begin to find ease in your depths.

That acceptance, love, and connection you’d been fighting for, will find you.

And when it does, you’ll be able to breathe — for what feels like the very first time.

When what is for you finds you, it will feel like coming up for air after a lifetime spent underwater — afraid to surface, afraid to ripple, afraid to displease.

But how will what’s for you know how to find you, if not for the beacon of your light?