For years,
I mistook people-pleasing
for kindness.
I arrived carrying smiles
that weren’t always mine,
said “yes”
when my soul longed to whisper,
“Not today.”
I learnt to read
everyone else’s heart,
while slowly
forgetting the language
of my own.
I poured myself
into lives that flourished,
never noticing
my own garden
had gone thirsty.
Then one ordinary day,
while reaching
for something
I didn’t even want,
I heard a quiet voice
I hadn’t met in years.
“When will you choose me?”
It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t regret.
It was simply truth,
waiting patiently
to be heard.
So I put down
the invisible weight
I had carried
for far too long.
The world didn’t change.
I did.
My voice was fragile.
A little uncertain.
A little late.
But beautifully alive.
And with every gentle step,
every honest choice,
every boundary
I no longer apologised for,
I realised
I wasn’t losing people.
I was finally
finding myself.
And perhaps,
after all these years
of searching everywhere else,
home
had been waiting
inside me
all along.
July 6, 2026
