I used to think I had to be whole to be worthy. That I had to arrive, polished and certain, before I could speak, lead, or love. But the world doesn’t wait for perfection—it meets us in our fragments. In the dust of our doubt. In the cracks of our becoming. I’ve learned that light doesn’t need a flawless surface to shine. It only needs an opening. Today, I stop hiding the broken parts. I let them breathe. I let them speak. Because maybe the sacred isn’t found in being complete—but in being real.
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