My Own Moments

There are versions of me scattered across time.

Fragments of laughter, heartbreak, choices made in fear,

and dreams I once clung to like lifelines.

They linger like echoes in a quiet room,

whispering reminders of who I was, who I tried to be,

and who I never became. But today, I honor them.

Not with regret.
Not with longing.
But with release.

I’ve walked through timelines that no longer serve me.
I’ve held hands with memories that drained me.
I’ve danced with identities stitched together by survival, not truth.

And now, I cut the cords.

Not to forget, but to forgive.
Not to erase, but to evolve.

This is my rebirth, not dramatic, not loud.
It’s the quiet unfolding of a soul reclaiming its space.
It’s the shedding of borrowed skins.
It’s the return to my own rhythm.

Those ghosts of me, they taught me.
They shaped me.
But they don’t define me.

I am not their shadow.
I am the light that outgrew them.