I keep replaying what I said, like I could change the ending. Every word inside my head feels heavier than it should be. I hold the past up to the light and search for every flaw, like I was never meant to fall, like I should have known it all. But maybe I was learning, like everybody does. I’m allowed to be human, allowed to be wrong, allowed to keep breathing, even when I feel lost. I don’t have to punish every mistake I see. I can be gentle now, I can be kind to me. I measure myself against a version I can’t reach, like every small misstep erases something good in me. I talk to myself in ways I’d never use on anyone, like mercy is for other hearts, but mine must carry on. But maybe I was growing, even in the mess. I’m allowed to be human, allowed to be wrong, allowed to keep breathing, even when I feel lost. I don’t have to punish every mistake I see. I can be gentle now, I can be kind to me. I don’t have to earn the right to rest. I don’t have to prove that I did my best. I can lay it down, I can let it be. What I’d give to someone else, I can give to me. I’m allowed to be human, allowed to be wrong, allowed to keep breathing, even when I feel lost. I don’t have to carry everything I see. I can be gentle now, I can be kind to me. I can be kind to me.