Sometimes, I am tired. A quiet kind of tiredness, the kind that settles behind the eyes, slows down my movements, and makes the heart beat more gently. There are long nights in my gaze, emotions held too tightly, tears that finally found their way without making a sound. I cried. Not a little. Not once. I cried to release what was overflowing, to let go of what had become too heavy. And I am not ashamed. I am not ashamed of being tired. I am not ashamed of being fragile. I am not ashamed of the moments when I had to hold myself together. And then there is another image. A softer moment. A shy expression, a small, gentle smile. In that photo, I am cute. Not perfect. Just real. A simple kind of sweetness, like a lighter breath, like a pause in the middle of everything. My hand resting on my face is not a way to hide, it is a place of comfort. Even tired, even sensitive, I am still here. Between exhaustion and tenderness, between tears and softness, I continue to exist, whole, human. Sometimes I am tired. Sometimes I am cute. I am always real. And I am not ashamed. #laeti 🐣😔 #atiny ❤🫶🏻