That Girl

She was that girl- the one who lit up rooms like morning light, who felt too much, cried too often, apologized for storms she never called upon. She would stitch together what others tore apart, mend the broken pieces she never shattered, explain herself a thousand times for mistakes that were never hers to own. But change doesn’t happen overnight. It creeps in- slow, uninvited- until one day, she wakes up too tired to pour herself into empty hands. Too weary to beg the world to understand. Now, she owns the silence. She lets doors close without knocking twice. She no longer explains, no longer stays where she is only heard but never felt. For too long, she was that girl. And nothing changed. So, she did.