They say things about me. Always have.
At first, I let the words sink in,
let them carve shame into my skin,
let them settle in the hollow spaces of my mind
where self-doubt already lived rent-free.

I was silent then. Weak.
A spectator in my own downfall.

Then I learned to fight back.
Words for words.
Blows for whispers.

I turned my shame into rage,
sharpened it, made it cut.

And for a while, it worked.
Until I realized—
violence doesn’t erase echoes.
It just makes them louder.

So I chose something else. Silence.

Today, it happened again.
The murmurs, the side glances,
the knowing smirks.

But I didn’t flinch.
I met their eyes—steady, unreadable—
then looked away.

No words. No fists.
Just a quiet defiance.

I pulled out my phone,
turned on the camera,
and let the screen become my mirror.

I smiled, tilted my head,
pretending to admire my reflection.

Let them see it.
Let them think I was untouchable.

But inside the frame, I saw it. The truth.

Not the beauty I pretended to gush over,
but the pain lurking behind my eyes.

The way my lips trembled
between forced confidence
and suppressed tears.

I saw the weight of words unspoken,
the quiet screams bottled up beneath my skin.

A picture. A memory. A mask.

I wonder if they saw it too.

Or if they’re still watching,
trying to figure out…

What exactly they’ve been breaking all this time.

How you start your day matters, declare what you want to see. Control the energy with which you operate per time.

Speak what you want to, declare what you want to be. Silence is a recipe for disaster.

Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans

Heaven help those who help themselves