Daily Gratitude Journal

being the youngest daughter feels like living in a bubble that looks warm from the outside but kind of suffocates you. everyone thinks you're the pampered one, the carefree one, but they don’t see how often you're not taken seriously. your thoughts get cut off mid-sentence, your dreams sound too big, your feelings too dramatic. you get told you're lucky while you're quietly learning to self-soothe, to be your own cheerleader. love feels like it comes with conditions or comparisons. it’s not just being the youngest- it’s being unheard, unseen, and still expected to smile like everything’s soft and sweet.