The little girl

Once there was a little girl,

and she grew up so scared.

But she wasn’t allowed to show it—

no one was allowed to know it.

She had to put on a smile

and act like everything around her was fine,

even as everything around her

was slowly chipping away at her soul.

When the little girl grew up,

she didn’t really know who she was anymore,

because she had been told to pretend.

She searched for herself in all the wrong mirrors,

molding into what other people wanted.

And when she stepped back

and looked at her reflection,

all she saw

was that same scared little girl.

She did things her mother said

she could never do—

she got degrees,

she traveled the world,

she built a family.

The family fell apart,

and she tried to piece it back together again,

tried to create a whole new version of love.

But some days,

this little girl in a grown woman’s body

still doesn’t know

how to fit the pieces.

Now she stands before the mirror,

the pieces still not fitting—

but maybe they don’t need to.

Maybe the broken edges,

the pieces that overlap,

are what make her the woman she is today.

Not perfect,

but here.

And not hiding anymore.