Writers 
I am somewhere between
the person I used to be
and the person
I am still becoming.
Somewhere between
the dreams I once whispered
and the dreams
I am finally brave enough
to say out loud.
I have learned
that growing does not always
look beautiful.
Sometimes,
it looks like sitting quietly
with thoughts
I cannot explain.
Sometimes,
it looks like starting again
after promising myself
I would never have to.
Sometimes,
it looks like letting go
of things I wanted
to hold forever.
And sometimes,
growing simply means
waking up the next morning
and deciding
to try again.
I used to think
I needed to have everything
figured out.
The perfect plan.
The perfect direction.
The perfect version of myself.
But life does not hand us
a map before the journey begins.
Sometimes we walk
with nothing but hope
and a small voice inside us
saying,
keep going.
I have taken wrong turns.
I have trusted people
who taught me lessons
instead of staying.
I have watched opportunities
pass by
while wondering
if I was ready.
I have doubted myself
more times
than I want to admit.
But somehow,
I am still here.
Still dreaming.
Still learning.
Still writing.
Still hoping.
Still becoming.
There are days
when I feel behind.
I look around
and wonder
why everyone else
seems to know
where they are going.
But perhaps
I am comparing
my unfinished chapter
to someone else's
highlighted page.
Perhaps
my journey was never meant
to look like theirs.
Maybe I am allowed
to take my time.
Maybe I am allowed
to change my mind.
Maybe I am allowed
to begin again.
There is no shame
in becoming someone
you have never been before.
There is no shame
in outgrowing
old dreams.
There is no shame
in discovering
that the life you imagined
is not the life
you want anymore.
We change.
We learn.
We lose.
We find.
We break.
We rebuild.
And somehow,
between all those moments,
we become ourselves.
So I will not rush
the person I am becoming.
I will give her time.
I will give her mistakes.
I will give her questions
without demanding
immediate answers.
I will let her dream
even when the dream
seems too far away.
I will let her rest
without calling it failure.
And when she feels lost,
I will remind her
that being lost
does not mean
the journey is over.
Sometimes
you simply need
to pause long enough
to hear your own voice again.
I don't know
what tomorrow holds.
I don't know
which dreams will stay
and which ones will change.
I don't know
who I will become
a year from now.
But I know this:
I am not finished.
There are still stories
I have not written.
Places
I have not seen.
People
I have not met.
Lessons
I have not learned.
Versions of myself
I have not discovered.
So I will keep going.
Slowly,
imperfectly,
honestly.
One day at a time.
One page at a time.
One dream at a time.
Because maybe life
was never about becoming
a perfect person.
Maybe it was always about
becoming a person
you are proud
to call yourself.
And for now,
I am still becoming.
Still here.
Still trying.
Still dreaming.
Still me.
