Sometimes I wonder if I am petty — if the little things I notice, the moments I react, make me small.
But truth whispers softly: I am not petty. I am human.

It is not wrong to want respect, to hope others see my care,
to feel a sting when I am overlooked or laughed at.
What rises in me is not pettiness, but sensitivity 
a quiet longing to be valued, a wish to be understood.

Strength is not in pretending the small things don’t matter.
Strength is in pausing, asking myself gently:
Is this my value, or a moment I can let float away?

Each answer teaches me.
Each reflection softens me.
I carry forward not the weight of being “petty,”
but the truth of being human 
learning, feeling, and still choosing love.