This is more than writing. It’s an unearthing. And reading it felt like someone whispering, “I see you,” in a way I didn’t know I still needed. I relate. Not in the polite, nodding, “Oh that’s familiar” kind of way, but in the raw, guttural sense of "I have lived this." Every paragraph pulled at a version of me I’ve tried to bury or ignore or perform over.
I’ve been the overachiever applauded for my resilience, even as my inner world crumbled quietly under the weight of expectations—others' and my own. I’ve been the shapeshifter, molding myself into what others needed, wanted, expected... until I could no longer recognize my own reflection in silence.
I have loved from a place of fear, of absence, of a desperate hunger to be seen and chosen. And in doing so, I have shrunk. Folded. Disappeared. I have danced so carefully around people’s comfort that I forgot what my own rhythm felt like. And when the applause stopped, or the relationship ended, or the failure came, I was left staring into a void I couldn't name.
Thank you, truly, for articulating the ache so many of us carry. For putting language to what often stays unnamed. For reminding us that becoming ourselves is not a destination—it’s a daily, courageous act.
I’m still learning to sit with my mirror, even on the days the reflection shakes. But now, I’ll try to greet her more gently. Maybe that's where "being better" begins.
I wish I had the words to convey the visceral response I had while reading this. At too many points, I would stop, put a fist to my mouth and nod even as tears sprang up to my eyes. I don’t think I can equate that experience with words yet. Maybe after my fifth or sixth read. Until then, thank you. For writing and sharing, thank you.
Aisha, your words moved me more than I can say. Thank you for reading with such openness. Thank you for feeling with such depth. And thank you, truly, for letting me know.
This feels like a long lost return to self if I may say. It feels like a hug from a grandparent once distanced by age, years as boundaries. It's impressive how you write about the wholeness of the human condition especially one of it's lowest points while acknowledging greatness in despair, love in the face of apathy. I am reminded that we all find ourselves after such “deviation” from the normal and many times, it pays to just let the emotion sit deep, simmer through the recesses of our mind.
This is such a thought-provoking question. And as usual, you did justice to laying your heart bare on the platter of words. Thank you for being vulnerable in this piece. It's one of the most relatable pieces I've read in recent times.
This is more than writing. It’s an unearthing. And reading it felt like someone whispering, “I see you,” in a way I didn’t know I still needed. I relate. Not in the polite, nodding, “Oh that’s familiar” kind of way, but in the raw, guttural sense of "I have lived this." Every paragraph pulled at a version of me I’ve tried to bury or ignore or perform over.
I’ve been the overachiever applauded for my resilience, even as my inner world crumbled quietly under the weight of expectations—others' and my own. I’ve been the shapeshifter, molding myself into what others needed, wanted, expected... until I could no longer recognize my own reflection in silence.
I have loved from a place of fear, of absence, of a desperate hunger to be seen and chosen. And in doing so, I have shrunk. Folded. Disappeared. I have danced so carefully around people’s comfort that I forgot what my own rhythm felt like. And when the applause stopped, or the relationship ended, or the failure came, I was left staring into a void I couldn't name.
Thank you, truly, for articulating the ache so many of us carry. For putting language to what often stays unnamed. For reminding us that becoming ourselves is not a destination—it’s a daily, courageous act.
I’m still learning to sit with my mirror, even on the days the reflection shakes. But now, I’ll try to greet her more gently. Maybe that's where "being better" begins.
Tao, this is as beautiful as it gets. You've succinctly summarized this. Thank you.❤️
I wish I had the words to convey the visceral response I had while reading this. At too many points, I would stop, put a fist to my mouth and nod even as tears sprang up to my eyes. I don’t think I can equate that experience with words yet. Maybe after my fifth or sixth read. Until then, thank you. For writing and sharing, thank you.
Aisha, your words moved me more than I can say. Thank you for reading with such openness. Thank you for feeling with such depth. And thank you, truly, for letting me know.
It was truly my pleasure. I can’t wait to revisit this once more.
This made me smile, put tears in my eyes and opened up something within me that I am yet to figure out. For this, thank you, Dennis.🤍
Also, you write beautifully.
🫶🏽
This feels like a long lost return to self if I may say. It feels like a hug from a grandparent once distanced by age, years as boundaries. It's impressive how you write about the wholeness of the human condition especially one of it's lowest points while acknowledging greatness in despair, love in the face of apathy. I am reminded that we all find ourselves after such “deviation” from the normal and many times, it pays to just let the emotion sit deep, simmer through the recesses of our mind.
Thank your writing life's letter!
Thank you for writing life's letter! Thank you!
I appreciate you Milton. Your comment itself is a poetical masterpiece. Thank you.
Wow
This is beautiful🥹
Thank you🫂
Thank you, Damilola.
“So who am I to me?”
This is such a thought-provoking question. And as usual, you did justice to laying your heart bare on the platter of words. Thank you for being vulnerable in this piece. It's one of the most relatable pieces I've read in recent times.
Thank you Abimbola. I'm glad it resonated with you.
You're welcome.
This is beyond breathtaking. Thank you. ❤️
Thank youuu.❤️