Becoming
There was a me I don’t recognise. A name I answered to, a shape I filled, but not a self I ever knew. She moved how she was taught to move— graceful, agreeable, smiling on time. But her eyes… her eyes were always searching. She’s been with me through the in-betweens. She’s steady, reliable, quiet when it counts. She keeps things smooth, keeps things safe. But safe, I’m learning, is not the same as whole. And then— there’s this other me. A stranger, at first. Unapologetic, barefoot in the middle of the storm. She doesn’t shrink. She doesn’t explain. She just 'is'. I didn’t expect her. Didn’t know I was waiting. But when she spoke, something inside me stood still. She feels unfamiliar— and yet, more 'me' than I’ve ever been. And maybe that’s what becoming is: Not finding someone new, but remembering who I was before the world told me who to be. 01.07.2025