The Echo of Their Words

There are words we hear so often that they begin to shape us. Not because they’re true, but because repetition has a way of sinking into our bones, making us question everything we are. When someone you love, someone whose approval you unconsciously seek, tells you over and over again that you’re not enough, you start to wonder if they’re right.

It’s strange how much words can change a person. How they can make someone who was once carefree, full of laughter and light, start hesitating before they speak. How they can make someone who once filled a home with energy and sound slowly retreat into silence. It happens so gradually that you don’t even notice it at first. But one day, you catch yourself feeling like a different version of yourself—one you don’t recognize.

I’ve always believed that a home is more than just walls and furniture. It’s the people in it, the emotions that run through its rooms, the laughter that echoes in the quiet. And yet, sometimes, the very people who make up that home can make it feel suffocating. Not intentionally, not with cruelty—just with the weight of expectations, comparisons, and unspoken disappointments.

Maybe it comes from love, this constant pressure to be better. Maybe they don’t realize that the push they think is helping is actually pulling you apart. Maybe they don’t understand that instead of making you stronger, their words make you question

if you were ever strong to begin with.

And then there’s the weight of numbers—marks, ranks, scores. For some, they determine the value of a person, the worth of their future. The idea that one exam, one grade sheet, can dictate success is something we’re taught to believe. But is that really all that matters? Do these numbers truly define intelligence, passion, or potential? Or do they just serve as another way to make us feel like we’re never quite enough?

Teenagers are often expected to have everything figured out—to have a plan, a roadmap, a clear path to success. But how can someone truly find their passion if they are constantly guided by others instead of being given the freedom to explore? Why is it that only certain careers are seen as valuable, while others—like dance, music, or art—are dismissed as hobbies instead of real, impactful professions? In a world driven by creativity and innovation, isn’t it time we recognized that every field plays a crucial role in shaping the future?

But love isn’t always loud. It isn’t always spoken in the ways we expect. Sometimes, it’s in the smallest gestures—a quiet check-in, a simple question, like offering an orange while assuming you’re busy. It’s in the concern hidden beneath the weight of expectations, in the unspoken care that lingers even in the midst of harsh words. And maybe, just maybe, that’s worth holding on to.

Here’s the thing: words don’t define you. Numbers don’t define you. They never have. What defines you is what you do with them. Do you let them break you? Do you allow them to shrink you into someone you were never meant to be? Or do you take them, reshape them, and turn them into something that fuels you instead?

I don’t know all the answers yet. But I do know this: I refuse to let the words of others steal my light. I refuse to let a number on a sheet of paper convince me that I am anything less than enough. And if you’ve ever felt the same way, if you’ve ever questioned your worth because of what someone said to you—then let this be your reminder.

You are enough. You always have been.