Who I Want to Be

I want to be the woman who doesn’t need the gaze of others’ eyes to feel beautiful.

I want to be the woman who knows, bone deep, that she is enough as she is, even on the days she feels awkward or unsure.

I want to be the woman who raises the room temperature when she walks in.

I want to be the woman they call bubbly when she leaves—the kind Lesley sees when she looks at me: open, glowing, approachable.

I want to be the woman whose energy feels like a teenage summer beach night—bonfires, first kisses, good music, forgotten curfews.

I want to be the woman who is admired and respected while still remaining humble.

I want to be the woman whose loved ones feel her love in every gesture, every act, every breath, never doubting their place in her life.

I want to be the woman who says reassuring words at the right moment, words that soften hard days, a balm for emotional wounds.

I want to be the woman who stays kind when the monsters inside are roaring and they want to tear someone apart, when anger feels justified and easy.

I want to be the woman who refuses breadcrumbs, who doesn’t pretend almost-love is enough, who doesn’t beg for hands that refuse to learn how to hold her.

I want to be the woman who walks away as soon as she realizes staying hurts more than leaving.

I want to be the woman who is loved not despite her flaws, faults, and imperfections, but with them—the sharp edges, the cracks, the broken pieces she has soldered back together.

I want to be the woman who is never a punchline to frenemies’ jokes, but a story they wish they could read.

I want to be the woman who is brave when afraid, bold when her voice is shaking, and unapologetically herself even in rooms she wandered into, uninvited.

I want to be the woman who stands tall with her head held high, no longer bending and twisting to be accepted.

I want to be the woman I am becoming.