I look at myself some days and barely recognize who I've become. The version of me that's tired, quiet, and guarded. I used to laugh freely, trust easily, dream boldly. Now I second-guess everything. I replay conversations in my head. I try to figure out what I missed what I did wrong. But sometimes, people hurt you not because you're wrong, but because they don't know how to love you right.
My personal life has been a rollercoaster with no seatbelt. People coming and going. Promises made and broken. I've tried to keep it all together to be the strong one. But strength becomes a curse when no one stops to ask if you're okay.
There have been moments small ones where I see flickers of hope. A kind word from a stranger. A song that speaks my heart. A memory that reminds me I wasn't always this heavy. These small sparks have kept me from fully giving up. They're reminders that maybe, just maybe, this storm is not forever.
I've learned to sit with the silence. To cry without guilt. To walk alone and not see it as a punishment. I've learned that healing isn't pretty. It's messy, slow, and doesn't always make sense. But I also know that I'm not weak. Hurt, yes. But not broken beyond repair.
If you ask me what I want right now, it's peace. Not the kind that comes from perfect circumstances, but the kind that settles in your chest even when life is falling apart. I want peace with my past. Peace with the people who didn't love me right. Peace with the choices I made trying to survive.
This season has stripped me. But maybe it's making room for new beginnings, better people, and a stronger version of me. Maybe being sour, broke, and hurt is just the soil where something softer and wiser will grow.
I don't know what's ahead, but I do know this: I'm still here. And that means I haven't lost. Not really.
So here's to this chapter uninvited, painful, but mine. I'll walk through it. And when I get to the other side, I'll remember that I lived through this too.