This one isn’t about proving anything. It’s the sound of me coming home to myself. Slow. Warm. Steady. I speak from my chest and my belly — not my fear. This is softness that does not collapse. It’s the part of me that knows my worth without raising my voice. If you listen, listen with breath. Not with the mind trying to interpret. I don’t chase. I don’t beg. I don’t perform to be held. I meet what meets me — and I stay with myself when something does not. Match me… or move. Either way, I remain.