self-worth
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There comes a point where you get tired of cleaning up messes that were never yours. You look down at your hands and realize the red isn’t from your own wounds. It’s from standing too close to people who never learned how to stop bleeding on others. And instead of asking who cut them, you…
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When you are unapologetically yourself, you will trigger people. Not because you are cruel.Not because you are loud.But because you are clear. You say what you mean. You mean what you say. You don’t soften truth to make it easier to swallow. And truth has a way of rattling ears that are addicted to illusion.…
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It’s not fair to judge a version of someone that exists only in your own mind.That image is just a memory, not the living person. A surface reflection mistaken for the whole story. The truth is, that version is already gone. It couldn’t survive what reality required. And their silence?It speaks more about what they’re…
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Some people are born into safety.Soft landings. Open arms. Rooms without shouting in the walls. And some of us were not. So we learned something different.If you didn’t come from a safe place… you become one. Not for revenge.Not to prove anything.But because someone had to end the loop. At first, it feels like survival…
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Life does not forget.It waits. It waits in the mouths that doubted you.In the eyes that studied your cracks like proof.In the quiet certainty of people who decided who you werebefore you finished becoming. They said you were unstable.Too much.Too emotional.Too intense.Too sensitive.Too hard to hold. They mistook pressure for personality.They mistook survival for dysfunction.…
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(Headphones on- Villian -Neoni) There comes a moment when the healed version opens the door one last time and lets the demon speak. Not to reopen the wound, but to end the story honestly. This is that moment. They were not the victim.They were not the villain. Let me say that again, because it matters.…
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Good morning, sweet day. We rise with one foot in front of the other, stepping out onto the ledge of yet another beginning. Someone once asked me if I ever grow weary of starting over. No, I told them. Better to begin again, even from the ashes, than to rot in places that no longer…
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We were once told to bend our heads and fold our hands, as if we were not the bearers of life itself. To obey without question. To swallow our own thoughts because they might trouble the air. To feel nothing, or at least to pretend we didn’t. We were made to feel small—irrelevant—a placeholder until…
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You never loved me. You just wanted to own me. You didn’t fall in love with me.You fell in love with your reflection in my eyes.I was the canvas, you were the brush—but the painting was always your own face.You whispered sonnets soaked in sugar,but every word was a leash.You didn’t want a partner.You wanted…
