We all had a day when play became a strategy.
When expression became impression.
When “being” quietly turned into “being impressive.”
That’s the day we left the garden.

Not with drama.
With self-consciousness.
A watcher took a seat in the front row of our mind and never stopped judging the show.

Maybe you couldn’t penetrate a parent’s narcissism.
No matter what you did, it didn’t land.
So you started performing.

Or maybe you learned what finally did make an impression.
But only when it was exceptional.
So you raised the bar and called it love.

This is the seed of people-pleasing.
A sacred covenant gets broken.
The covenant to be ourselves.

From then on, life is a stage.
The crowd is the weather.
And your soul learns to dress for it.

Here’s the truth:
You were made for expression, not impression.
Play is still your native language.
Performance is a second tongue you learned to survive.

Today, one small reversal.
Speak one sentence you would normally swallow.
Choose one simple desire and say it out loud.
Do one thing for the joy of it, not the optics.
This is how we walk back to the garden.
One honest act at a time.
No applause required.
Only your presence.