Some days, I feel like I’m wearing a name that doesn’t quite fit. Not because it’s false, but because it’s heavy. Identity can become armor—meant to protect, but sometimes it restricts. I’ve spent years building a version of myself that others could recognize, admire, understand. But in doing so, I forgot how to recognize myself. Today, I loosen the straps. I let the labels fall where they may. I remind myself that I am not the sum of what others see—I am the quiet, shifting truth beneath it all. And that truth doesn’t need to be explained. Only lived.
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