Sometimes, I cry.

Not because I’m weak, but because I feel everything — deeply.

When the pressure builds up and life gets too heavy, I cry.

When something beautiful happens, something I never imagined would happen for me, I cry too. It’s like my heart can’t hold all the emotions, so they spill out through my eyes.

Crying is how I let go.

I cry when I’m tired. I cry when I’m overwhelmed.

I cry when I’m full of joy or when I feel like I’m drowning.

And when I cry, I’m not ashamed.

Because in those moments, I’m not pretending. I’m not hiding.

I’m being real — raw, vulnerable, honest.

People think crying is weakness.

They say you should hold it in, be tough, act like nothing bothers you. But I think the real strength is in showing that something does.

I cry, and then I breathe.

I cry, and then I pick myself back up.

And I keep going.

That’s not weakness. That’s courage.

Tears don’t make me fragile.

They make me human.

And every time I cry and rise again, I prove to myself that I’m stronger than anything trying to break me.