They tell the kid, “Work harder—

grades will define you.”

As if letters on a page

are the blueprint of a soul.

They tell the teen, “Think about your future—

college, career, reputation.”

As if eighteen years is enough

to solve the puzzle of a lifetime.

They tell the parent, “Be strong,

don’t let the neighbors talk.”

As if strength is silence,

as if image is love.

They tell the worker, “Push through—

retirement will be your rest.”

As if decades of exhaustion

can be healed in a handful of years.

They whisper to the elder, “Time is short.”

As if they didn’t already know.

As if aging is shameful,

instead of proof of surviving.

And all of us—

from the anxious student

to the tired grandparent—

carry this quiet weight:

the pressure to be enough,

to succeed,

to never fall behind.

But here’s the truth

no one says loud enough:

You are not a grade.

You are not a paycheck.

You are not a headline

in the neighbors’ minds.

You are a person.

And people are allowed

to breathe,

to stumble,

to rest,

to heal.

The future is real,

but so is today.

And if today asks you

to pause,

to cry,

to laugh at something small,

or to simply survive—

that is not failure.

That is being human.

And being human

has always been enough.