When we applaud ourselves first,
external praise becomes an echo,
not a necessity.
I’ve lived long enough to know
that waiting for approval
is like chasing shadows—
they vanish as soon as you reach them.
But within me,
a quieter rhythm calls.
It says: recognize your own hands,
the strength in your scars,
the tenderness in your staying.
It is the quiet courage
of owning my own light—
not borrowed,
not begged for,
not defined by applause,
but burning steady,
like a lantern
that refuses to go out.
And when I walk into the world
with that flame alive,
every echo of praise
is only confirmation
of what I already know:
I am enough.