π "She Smiled β and It Was Enough."
Some days, all Iβve got is a smile.
Not the perfect one, not for the camera β but the quiet kind. The one I wear despite everything.
And honestly? That smile has saved me more than once.
Itβs how I whispered to the world,
βIβm still here.β
Itβs how I told my reflection,
βWeβve got this.β
Sometimes joy isnβt loud. Itβs survival.
A soft rebellion.
A little light you keep lit β even when the room is dark.
So if you see me smiling, know this:
Itβs not fake.
Itβs fierce.
Itβs me, choosing to bloom anyway.