Let It Go, Let It Flow, Let Me Grow

There was a time I had to respond. Had to explain. Had to prove I was right — whether it was about how to fold a bedsheet, pronounce “quinoa,” or the correct plot of a 90s movie. I wasn’t arguing; I was “clarifying” — or so I told myself.

But lately, I’ve realized something: Peace doesn’t need punctuation. It doesn’t need a mic drop. It just needs me… to let go.

So yes, I’m letting go of the last word.
Even if it’s dangling on my tongue like the last piece of cake that someone else claimed was “theirs.”
Even if I know that I know that I know I’m right.

Because what’s the point of winning a tiny battle if I lose the war of warmth?

“Speak only if it improves upon the silence,” said Mahatma Gandhi. And honestly, a lot of my so-called “contributions” were just auditions for an invisible courtroom drama I created in my head.

So today, I’m choosing calm over clever.
I’m choosing smiles over smugness.
I’m choosing a deep breath over a dramatic sigh.

I still catch myself preparing a witty comeback mid-conversation. But then I remind myself: Let it go, Elsa-style. My harmony is not built on being heard louder — it’s built on listening softer.

Thought to ponder:
What if the only “last word” we really need is love — spoken in silence?