Remember the words you said—
Before I get married,
I want to fully live as me.
Commit to my purpose,
not a promise that hides me.
I saw what that man did there—
Told me I’m unaccomplished,
like my life’s résumé
was missing his last name.
He said, “Let me put a ring on it,”
as if gold could erase my grit.
As if vows could silence
the voice I fought to keep.
But I said, “No.”
Before I get married,
you must not know who I am.
I’m a fighter—
ring name: Against All Odds.
You’re not easing anything;
I’ve walked barefoot through battles,
learned grace in the fire,
found peace in the noise.
I’ve drowned before,
but here I stand.
Jobless—
but never hungry.
Two shoes—
but always in glam.
No lights—
but radiant as ever.
Grew up in the trenches,
but my words wear crowns.
And when they ask,
“Why not say yes?”
I’ll say—because I’m still learning
the melody of my mission.
Because the altar of my destiny
isn’t in a white dress yet.
Because purpose is my first promise,
and I must honor it before I vow to another.
I’ve carried too many versions of me
trying to be loved,
now I’m the loving one
Before I get married,
I’ll marry my faith—
commit to my growth,
exchange rings with resilience.
And when I do walk down that aisle one day,
it won’t be to escape my shame—
It’ll be because I’ve already met myself there—
whole and healed
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 12:43 PM UTC
Who are they
to make me feel this way?
Who signed the papers,
who stamped the permission slip
that said
yes, you may crash her spirit
until she forgets her name?
Who gave them the right
to sand me down
with opinions,
to call it “help,”
to rename my becoming
as failure?
They changed me.
They pressed and pulled and judged
until I bent in places
I didn’t even know could ache.
And now they stare, confused,
asking why I look different.
I was placed on this earth too.
Not as an accessory.
Not as a lesson.
Not as someone’s emotional labour.
I was placed here
to have a home and kids too,
to burn dinner and laugh about it,
to build dreams that scare me,
to grow old with stories
that don’t apologize for existing.
But selfish —
they held me hostage
against what works or doesn’t,
measured my worth
with earthly scales
that never knew how to weigh a soul.
They drove me
from sanity to insanity,
then asked why I’m tired.
But listen.
I am someone’s daughter.
I am someone’s friend.
I am a future mom
I am a person
who survived being misunderstood
and is still here
claiming space
with a trembling voice
that refuses to disappear.
And if that makes them uncomfortable—
good.
Because I am done shrinking
to make destruction feel justified.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 12:35 PM UTC
Do you think this has been easy?
Free will — but no will.
Living a life — but no life.
Going places — but nowhere.
I’ve seen a lot.
A lot of tears.
A lot of missed chances.
A lot of sleepless nights.
They love me…
They love to watch me fail.
They love to measure how far I won’t make it.
They love the taste of my suffering —
as if my pain is their entertainment,
as if my breaking is their hope.
Now I’m left trying to rescue myself
from suicidal tendencies,
from self-sabotage,
from another year drowning in tears,
from sprinting away from the life I deserve.
Don’t call me selfish
when I have never lived a life
I could call my own.
I have lived serving others
above my health, my years, my fears.
I tried to be happy —
yet somehow pain found its way through my smile.
I tried to be loved —
yet they love me only to hate me later.
I tried to be free —
yet I can’t even take the bus back home
without feeling trapped.
So tell me…
Do you still think this has been easy?
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 12:30 PM UTC
I didn't meet God in a church.........☆: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:☆(✿◕‿◕✿)
I met God on my knees when
I cried out and begged Him to take my pain away ,
I met Him when
I asked him to bless me with a personal bible and promised him
I would read it each and every day,
I met him in the pages of my journal where I spoke about how
I wish that this day will pass away,
I met him
in all the dozens of dreams that each time I blinked there
I go dreaming about a world where I was above fears and shame,
dreams where I still can't believe
I saw my Jesus face-to-face.
I met him when I was in the 4th grade but battling suicidal thoughts
, I met him where I took the knife and rope combo and was ready to finally call it quiets,
where I thought the world needed less of me.
after he sent angels in human form and they told me that's Jesus had washed my shame ,
that I do not longer need to suffer,
For I serve a God who sees.
For the first time
I could tell the light from darkness.
I found him in my loneliness, when everyone and thing
I relied on abandoned me.
I encountered God when he freed me overnight from the addictions and depression that nearly destroyed me.
I experienced His presence as he lifted me from the depth of rejection, abuse, and anxiety.
I met God when He saw me and chose me when he made me feel loved for the first time in my life
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 12:24 PM UTC
They told me hold on
—as if grip is a cure.
As if endurance redeems abuse.
As if staying is faith.
But this thing?
This thing was viral.
Deadly.
Eating me alive
while calling itself opportunity.
I kept watching for my moment to rise
checking the sky
checking the doors
checking myself—
—
but deep down
I knew
nothing was moving
except time leaving me behind.
letting go isn’t soft
.
It’s violent.
It’s ripping your hands
off something
that taught you
pain equals purpose.
I stayed.
They robbed me of years.
Used me until my body learned
what near death feels like
And now—
now I know
how wicked a person can be
when your loyalty feeds their comfort.
Still—
I couldn’t stop giving my best.
I worked with body, soul, and spirit.
Showed up bleeding but excellent.
Prayed while exhausted.
Served while unseen
.
Smiled while being drained.
Because I refused—
REFUSED—
to give up my dignity
for extra cash
and call it favor.
So I paid in time.
In health.
In silence.
Now hear this.
It is time to let go.
Jan 12
Jan 12, 2026 at 12:10 PM UTC