So why doesn’t it feel like you’re made from stars?
Why does it feel like you’re small, insufficient, too much and not enough all at once?
Because someone needed you to forget.
They needed you to believe that your light – that brilliant, cosmic, undeniable light – was actually a problem. Too bright. Too loud. Too you.
Dimming your light wasn’t an accident. It was a strategy.
Because here’s what people who dim others’ lights know:
A person who remembers they’re made of stardust cannot be controlled.
A person who knows their inherent worth – not because of what they do, but because of what they are – cannot be manipulated into believing they’re lucky to be tolerated.
A person who understands they carry the light of ancient stars in their very bones will not shrink to make someone else comfortable.
So they convinced you that your light was the problem.
That you were:
- Too sensitive (translation: too aware, too intuitive, too connected to truth)
- Too emotional (translation: too alive, too feeling, too human)
- Too dramatic (translation: too unwilling to accept unacceptable behaviour)
- Too much (translation: too powerful when fully expressed)
They needed you small. Dimmed. Doubting.
Because your light illuminated their shadows, and they couldn’t bear to look.

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