I’ve always been the “difficult” one. The one who noticed too much. The one who spoke up when silence would’ve made things easier. But comfort was never the goal—clarity was.
My dad would tell you, “She’s like me—strong-willed, stubborn when it counts, always rising to a battle most don’t even see coming.” And he’d be right. Because sometimes I’m pulled into fights that I didn’t start—but I’ve learned to stand tall in them anyway.
People didn’t always see what I was walking through. That used to frustrate me. But over time, I understood: some fights are quiet. Some battles don’t look like battles from the outside. And sometimes, people project their unhealed wounds onto those who move with purpose.
Insecure people often see gifted people as mirrors. And mirrors can be uncomfortable when you haven’t done the work. But the truth is: our healing is ours alone. I can’t do the work for you, and you can’t do the work for me.
What I do know is this: I don’t need a crowd to believe in the cause. I don’t need applause.
I just need to keep showing up—with strength, conviction, and a voice that doesn’t flinch.
Because I’ve been here before. And I know how to fight when I have to.
