✶ The Laugh That Changes the Room

I laugh really loud. At least, that’s what they tell me.

But the thing is— my laugh doesn’t belong to the rooms built for quiet women. No, that’s not me. My laughter belongs to the ones who have survived something, the ones who feel joy like sunrise and have bodies that remember freedom even when their lives don’t reflect it yet.

When I laugh, people turn. Soft people soften. Hidden ones rise up. Children look at me like they’ve been called home.

I used to shrink it though— tucking it behind my teeth, guarding it like it’s a secret.

But now I see what it really is: a signal, a permission slip, a doorway swinging open.

Because you see, some sounds aren’t noise. Some sounds are an inheritance.

🌙  What the body knows

To the ones who learned to muffle their joy— your laugh is not too much. It’s the part of you that has always known the way out.

If your body needs the fuller story, the doorway is here → The Laugh That Changes the Room (Expanded)