Reclaiming The Inner Child (CONFIRMED ◉)

You buried that version a long time ago. Not out of cruelty, but out of necessity.

And then you must let them lead.

And one day—maybe when you are spinning in an office chair for no reason, or blowing the fuzz off a dandelion in a parking lot—you will feel a hand slip into yours. Reclaiming the Inner Child

And you will finally remember: you were never supposed to outgrow yourself. You were only supposed to grow large enough to carry them both.

It is saying yes to the ice cream cone before dinner. It is lying on the grass to watch clouds shape-shift into dragons and ships. It is letting yourself feel angry without immediately fixing it, and sad without rushing to numb it. It is asking for what you need, directly and without shame, the way a child tugs on a sleeve and says, "I'm scared. Stay with me." You buried that version a long time ago

There is a version of you who still believes in magic. Not the magic of tricks or illusions, but the real kind—the shimmering certainty that the world is soft, that laughter comes easily, and that your only job is to marvel at the way light bends through a glass of water.

Reclaiming the inner child is not about being childish. It is about returning to yourself. And one day—maybe when you are spinning in

So you packed that child into a cardboard box and slid it into the darkest corner of your chest. And you forgot.