Yaya Corley
Staff Writer
As my final act of freedom, I’ll say this and let it go up in the air. You are seen. You are heard. You are loved. Don’t dim your light in a room full of darkness. Don’t make others feel like it’s okay to change you. You are someone’s perfect whether you see it or not. If you are looking for that sign, here it is. Lay it all on the line, speak your peace and let that be that. This isn’t my traditional style of writing. I write for the friend we say we don’t have to worry about, for the person with the biggest smile.
As I reflect on the year of 2025, I’ve gained a lot but lost even more. I’ve learned that sometimes free will look like letting go. Letting go of expectations, of people who can’t see you, of the need to always be strong. We live in a world that tells us to move on, to keep working, to smile through the pain. But what we need is to stop pretending. To say, “I’m not okay right now” and know that it’s still a strength to say it. The truth is, healing isn’t pretty. It’s messy. It’s sitting in silence when you’d rather scream, forgiving when the apology never comes, learning to rebuild from pieces you didn’t break. But healing is also proof, proof that you’ve survived what was meant to end you.
It’s waking up one more day and deciding that your story isn’t finished yet, even when it hurts to turn the page. So as I release this into the air, I hope it lands softly where it’s needed. I hope someone who feels invisible realizes they’ve been glowing this whole time. The world needs your light, not the version dimmed by fear or doubt but the one that burns honestly, even when it flickers. Keep showing up for yourself, even when no one claps. Keep choosing to stay, to love, to hope.
Because sometimes, that choice, quiet and unseen, is the bravest act of freedom there is. So, to whoever needs to hear this: your softness is not your weakness. Your voice matters, even when it trembles. And when the world feels too heavy to hold, remember: even light needs darkness to shine.