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it’s that to be vulnerable is a strength most of us fear.
One person. One piece of armor.
“I don’t want to wake up when I’m seventy-four only to realize I haven’t lived.”
I don’t think you realize how strong you are, because sometimes strength isn’t swords and steel and fire, as we are so often made to believe. Sometimes it’s found in quiet, gentle places. The way you hold someone’s hand as they grieve. The way you listen to others. The way you show up, day after day, even when you are weary or afraid or simply uncertain.
She has to survive this, Roman thought. He didn’t want to live in a world without her and her words.
It’s not a crime to feel joy, even when things seem hopeless.
Even when the world seems to stop, threatening to crumble, and the hour feels dark as the siren rings … it isn’t a crime to feel joy.
