There comes a point in life when you stop begging to be seen and start demanding to be respected — not with loud words or a clenched fist, but with presence, with truth, and with boundaries that do not apologize.
Respect me — not because I’m perfect or because I do things your way. Not because I smile when you expect it or stay quiet to make you comfortable. But because I am human. Because I have a story. Because I carry battles no one sees and victories no one applauds.
I’ve walked through days when my own voice felt foreign in my mouth. Nights when I fought to remember who I was beneath the expectations, the noise, the pressure. And still, I rose. Still, I show up. Not flawless, not finished — but real.
Respect me when I say no. Respect me when I choose peace over performance. When I protect my space, my energy, and my worth. It’s not pride — it’s growth. It’s knowing I’ve bent too many times to be broken again for anyone’s comfort.
Respect me, not because I need your approval, but because I deserve dignity. Because I have earned it through fire and reflection. Because I no longer shrink to fit places that cannot contain all of me.
So this is not a plea. It’s a declaration.
[Image source]>>>>Image by Alexa from Pixabay
