For the longest time, I thought healing would feel like fireworks.
Loud. Explosive. Obvious.But it didn't.Healing came like a soft breeze. A quiet breath.It wasn't loud—it was peaceful.There was a time I needed to prove I was okay.Post it. Say it. Prove it. Defend it.Now? I don't even argue with people anymore.
I don't chase closure.
I don't announce moves.
I just move—quietly, intentionally, fully present in my own lane.Living loud doesn't always mean being loud. Sometimes it means living fully—even when no one sees you.I no longer need crowds.I need clarity.I no longer seek attention.I seek alignment.The old me couldn't sit in silence. I needed noise—music, people, distractions. Anything to drown out the sound of my own thoughts.But the new me?I've made peace with quiet.I protect it. I even crave it.Because peace is the new flex.It's the glow they can't figure out.It's the confidence that doesn't need a microphone.Now I speak less and say more.I give less access and offer more value.I don't fear being misunderstood.I fear betraying myself just to be accepted.You see, the deeper the healing, the smaller the circle.The higher the growth, the quieter the room.And the more peace you gain, the less chaos you entertain.I live loud in how I love.In how I forgive.In how I walk away without bitterness.In how I show up for myself without apology.But I love quiet because that's where I found me.