As a child, I cried and laughed without asking permission,
whenever my heart felt too full, wherever my feet happened to stand.
Moments were homes—I lived inside them freely,
no yesterday pulling me back, no tomorrow rushing me ahead.
Now I’ve grown, and I float in between—
not fully in the past, not safely in the future,
wondering quietly… where am I?
Back then, the world had no labels ready for me.
I was not good or bad, not beautiful or ugly,
not kind enough or too much—
I was simply me.
Now names cling to my skin like shadows,
judging, measuring, defining every breath I take,
and I wonder when being human became a performance.
So tell me—am I meant to let go or hold on tight?
Am I allowed to cry, or must I always smile?
Somewhere inside, the child still waits for an answer,
barefoot, honest, unafraid—
hoping the adult remembers
that feeling deeply was never a flaw.
Nandini Mithun ✍️
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