The weight of letdowns has been heavy on your achy shoulders. Interactions that start out meaningful and fizzle into nothing. Jobs that promise the world and give back specks of dust. Friends who don’t show up when you need them most. Activism that feels so powerful but doesn’t make an inch of difference. Constantly having to pick yourself up; over and over and over again. You’re tired, and you’re running out of fuel.

But then…

You find solace in the words on a book page that speaks to your soul; in the synchronised whoops and cheers in a dimly lit spin class; in moments when the sun caresses your skin with gentle warmth instead of angry heat. You find solace in your solitude. You find solace in 19-year-old you’s words in a fragile journal that, for a whole decade, has held your thoughts and growing pains and heartache and joy and wonder and love. So much love.

And you realise you have so much of it to give, and so, you give it. Unconditionally. To yourself. To anyone who needs it. And anyone who doesn’t. And you train yourself not to wait for it back. The sun doesn’t expect the moon to shine light back onto it. It doesn’t need the moon’s warmth. It is enough for both of them to bring light to dark skies.

And so, let there be light.