To the Part of Me That’s Still Afraid to Be Me

 I realized something today.

Something I’ve been living with all along, but never dared to say out loud:

Even as I laugh, speak, walk, post, text, smile —
There’s a quiet part of me watching.
Monitoring.
Asking:
"What will they think of me now?"

It’s exhausting — this invisible performance.
The constant rewinding of moments in my mind,
playing back what I said, how I said it,
wondering if I sounded wrong, too much, too quiet, too emotional, too everything.

And the saddest part?
I’m not even sure who “they” are anymore.
Just shadows I keep trying to please.
Ghosts of judgment I never invited — but somehow never let go of.

But today…
I saw it.
Named it.
And in naming it, I softened something inside me.

I whispered, “You don’t need to be perfect to be loved. You just need to be real.”

Because what kind of life is it,
if I’m always rehearsing instead of living?

I want to trust my voice again.
I want to say things without shrinking afterward.
I want to move through the world without constantly apologizing for existing in it.

I want to be messy, honest, radiant —
not because I’m fearless,
but because I’m free.

So to the part of me that’s afraid of being seen:
Thank you for protecting me all these years.
You learned early that it wasn’t always safe to be yourself.
But we’re older now. We’re healing now.

It’s okay to show up.
It’s okay to be too much.
It’s okay to be… me.

I will not dim this light for anyone anymore.
I deserve to be witnessed, loved, and accepted — as I am.

And if they misunderstand me?
So be it.
I am no longer shrinking to be digestible.
Let them choke on my truth if they must.

Because I’m not here to be perfect.

I’m here to be free.