I’ve learned

that I shouldn’t need it.

That freedom means

not depending on other people’s eyes.

That strength is

standing alone in what I do.

My mind has repeated this

so many times

it sounds like truth.

If I don’t need recognition,

no one can trap me.

No one can control me.

No one can disappoint me.

And yes —

I understand the logic.

But I don’t live in my head.

I live among people.

And the truth is,

I feel too much.

Think too much

about what others see,

hear,

understand.

I’m affected

by looks.

By silence.

By applause

that never comes.

And at the same time —

something else.

A tiredness

from constantly

having to rise above it.

As if wanting recognition

were a flaw

to be corrected.

Then I had another thought.

What if it’s allowed?

What if the desire

isn’t weakness,

but relation?

Because something happens

between people.

When I make something

that matters to someone else.

When someone says:

That touched me.

That made me glad.

That meant something.

And I respond,

without shame:

Thank you.

That matters to me.

Something moves.

Not manipulation.

Not dependency.

But momentum.

I do something

that brings joy to others.

They tell me.

I feel motivated to continue.

A healthy spiral.

Not a dangerous one.

Maybe freedom

isn’t indifference.

Maybe freedom

is being able to receive recognition

without losing yourself to it.

Let it arrive.

Let it pass.

Right now,

it feels like relief

to give myself permission.

Not to chase recognition —

but to stop running from it.