They said the world would break me, turn me into nothing. But look — I am a dandelion seed blown on the wind, rooting in the cracks of pavement. I am not steel, not unbreakable. But in my softness lies a fierce resilience. Bend, they said. Instead, I bloom, unfurling petals the color of stubborn hope. The child inside me still sings, pockets full of pebbles, wild dreams. I long to cup a ladybug in my hands, to feel the world as open, a simple magic.