I’m not running from bullies anymore—I’m running toward joy. Toward music, art, freedom, and people who actually see me. I don’t shrink myself to fit into their boxes. I laugh louder now. I sing without holding back. My scars are still there, but they’re no longer open wounds—they’re proof that I survived and kept going. I write songs to stay soft in a world that once tried to harden me. I’m not “too much.” I’m exactly enough. I’m surrounded by real ones who lift me up instead of tearing me down. The voices that once tried to silence me? They don’t echo here. Here, it’s just love, lyrics, late-night giggles, healing, and hope. I don’t need to explain who I am—I just get to be her. I’m not hiding anymore. Not quieting myself for anyone. I’m witty. I’m 15. I’ve been through it—but I made it. And now? I’m blooming.
