WonderBag • Manic in Disguise [Slowed//Reverb + 432Hz].

Описание: You are the kind of quiet that should never be mistaken for absence, and yet it always is. You’ve taught yourself how to take up less room so well that even your breath has learned to tiptoe through conversation. You’re the kind of person who thinks asking for a glass of water somehow takes from the ocean. Who taught you that your needs were burdens disguised as desire. Who buried the idea in you that hunger should be hidden, that comfort should be optional. Every time you say, “It’s okay, I’m fine,” a piece of you folds itself a little smaller, and I want to sit beside you long enough for you to notice the damage. You’ve become fluent in the language of making things easier for others, and somehow you believe that fluency is the same as goodness. It isn’t. It’s exhaustion dressed in humility. It’s pain in a borrowed suit. The truth is, I think your needs are sacred. I think your wants are stitched with stardust, and I don’t mean that as poetry, I mean it as fact. What you want is not weakness. What you need is not demanding. What you dream of, even silently, even shamefully, even buried so deep you forget its name, is a map back to your center. This world will make you feel ungrateful for yearning. It will tell you survival should be enough. But survival is not a life. Silence is not peace. Being palatable is not the same as being loved. And I know you’ve built a whole life on being easy to love, but has anyone ever loved you loudly, wildly, without asking you to shrink first. You matter in your fullness. You are not just a mirror for other people’s light. You are a lighthouse. You deserve to shine even when no one is looking. Especially then. You don’t owe the world a version of you that forgets how to feel. You don’t have to make sense to everyone else in order to be worthy. There are things inside you that were never meant to be practical. They were meant to be felt. Pursued. Honored. Your needs are not noise. They are the melody. They are the reason the silence is unbearable. You deserve to be met in the middle without having to pretend you’re only half of yourself. I’ve watched you show up to everything in life except yourself. You show up for the late-night calls, the birthdays, the apologies you didn’t owe. You’ve said yes through clenched teeth so often that now your body doesn’t recognize the word no. I wish you knew that sacrifice does not have to mean self-destruction. That being there for everyone else is noble, but it should never be the reason you disappear. If you starve a flame long enough, it forgets how to burn, but that doesn’t mean the spark is gone. It just means it’s waiting. I think you’re still waiting. For permission. For clarity. For some sign that it’s finally your turn to want more. This is your sign. Want more. Speak your needs into rooms that have never heard your voice. Say it plain. Say it tired. Say it trembling. But say it. The version of you that gets everything they need does not exist in some distant dream. They exist on the other side of the moment you finally decide you are worth the effort. And you are. Even now. Even in the mess. Especially in the mess. Because I know what it’s like to convince yourself that wanting is selfish. I’ve made whole homes in the mouths of people who only gave praise to silence. But I am telling you with everything I’ve got, there is no bravery in pretending you are fine. There is no reward for neglecting your soul. You are not less holy for being human. You are not less deserving just because you haven’t said it aloud. Your wants matter. You were not put here to be the background noise to other people’s joy. You were not born to bite your tongue until it bruises just to keep the room quiet. I want my peace to mean something. I want to belong in my own life. That is not too much. That is what it means to be alive. And I hope you live fully enough to know that. I hope you live long enough to stop questioning if you’re allowed to ask for what you’ve always needed. I hope you live wide enough to remember that everything you long for already has a home inside you. I hope you live honestly enough that your voice stops shaking. I hope you live. Not just survive. Live. Don’t tell me you have nothing to give when the way you listen makes people feel like they’ve just found solid ground. Don’t tell me your needs are silly when I’ve seen how carefully you water other people’s roots, hoping they bloom while your own are bone-dry. There is no shame in being the one who finally asks, Maybe there’s a universe waiting on the other side of you believing you’re allowed to take up space. Maybe the real strength is in admitting the silence hurts. That your silence hurts. That you’ve traded joy for survival for so long, joy has started to feel fictional. But I promise, it’s not. I’ve touched it. It’s real. And it can be yours, too. #wonderbag #mix