NOT A SAINT - JUST A GIRL WITH FIRE INSIDE
There’s something I’ve carried in my heart for a long time, and today, I’m letting it out. It hurts when people don’t see me for the girl I am—but instead, expect me to live like a saint.
Maybe that sounds dramatic to some. But those who truly know me—know my vibe, my energy, my soul—know what I mean.
I’m someone who loves to dance like no one’s watching, sing until my voice cracks, travel just to feel the wind hit my face, wear what I love without explanation, and write my truth with every heartbeat. I’m an artist. A wanderer. A lover of life.
But people often expect me to mirror someone else’s personality—someone quieter, more reserved, more acceptable in their eyes. But I’m not her. I’m not anyone else. I’m me. And that should be enough.
Since I was a child, I’ve been told what to do, what to wear, how to sit, what to say, and what not to say. Rule after rule, layered on top of expectations I never asked for. I grew up under a microscope, with judgment waiting at every turn. I’ve been slut-shamed, body-shamed, and discriminated against for the color of my skin.
But here’s what they don’t see:
I’m still standing. I’m still growing.
I never wanted a perfect life—I wanted a free one. A life where I could explore all my passions. Where I could cry without being called weak, laugh without being told it's too much, speak without being labeled overconfident, and stay silent without being called senseless. No matter what I did, it felt like I was always “wrong.”
Did I gave up ..? No !
Because I have faith in my God
I don’t want to be great at just one thing—
I want to be skilled in many. So I started
learning every day—singing, writing, performing, dreaming—and embracing every part of who I am. I want to create, to express, to live. Not in a box. Not under labels. Just… me.
And yes, I’ve been mocked—my strengths turned into punchlines, my flaws into weapons. But I keep going.
Because I believe in something bigger than this moment.
One day, when the world finally understands me—when I’ve made it on my own terms—my dream is simple: to stand in front of an audience, successful, unapologetic, and whole. And for my father, who I love more than words, to look into my eyes, hug me tightly, kiss my forehead, and say with pride:
“She’s my daughter. I’m proud of her.”
That moment… will mean everything.
Until then, I’ll keep growing. Keep fighting. Keep being me.
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