Chosen for me was a path I had zero desire to be a part of, a narrative encompassing the framework that required the demolition of all I was.

I watched helplessly as those who cared for me preached righteousness and betterment, only to cause destruction and harm. Effortlessly going behind my back to curate relationships for their own gain while being a disloyal friend and partner; knowing the difference between right and wrong and choosing the latter.

One of the best parts about healing is evolution. I am one with the scriptures of my inner being. My rage has become a gift, rather than repression. My scars have become my wisdom. Gashes have become stepping stones to understandings, and my passion is my secret weapon, eloquent in my vulnerabilities and the desire to remain every towns insolent woman.

When my life blew up two years ago rejection was on the forefront of my mind— wanting to handle every aspect with grace. To bend and to be validated, accepted by those who destroyed me was the subconscious remedy, a fools remedy.

As a little girl I remember, I had the ability to be annoyingly rampant, to fear little— as I grew I conformed. I learned to dim. It meant to be attractive, to be attainable.

When my voice started to grow the narrative I viciously loathed started to shed away; People pleaser, ‘love is always the answer’, walked all over— phase ended and I evolved into a version I now cherish the most.