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

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