Sometimes I overthink my emotions. I wonder if I feel too much, too fast, too deep. But then I remember , that’s how I was made. And I’m not going to be sorry for that anymore. I get quiet when I’m overwhelmed. Not because I don’t care But because I care so deeply, I have to protect what’s left of me. I love softly. I notice the small things. I hold pain like it’s familiar, And joy like it’s fragile. And maybe that’s not what people call “strong.” But I’ve stayed. I’ve healed. I’ve kept going. Isn’t that strength? I’m learning not to hate the parts of me that feel slow. Or sensitive. Or “too emotional.” I’m soft. And I’m human. And I’m not ashamed of that anymore.