Sleeping Beauty
A dimmed life doesn’t shatter.
Nah, it just fades. Soft, slow, silent—
Until one day, she forgets the sound of her voice.
The fairytale? Oh, it was never a dream—it was a spell.
One so strong it held her in place.
She looks like she has it all—
But no one asks…Is she awake?
Sleeping Beauty.
She is me. I am her.
Moving through life,
a ghost of what I was meant to be.
Questions whisper—not loud, just steady.
Pulling at truths I’m scared to know.
Who am I?
Not the labels.
Not the roles I play—
Mom, wife, career woman—
Who am I, really?
And when did I stop believing in me?
When did I go silent?
When did I shrink?
The choices I made—
I’d make them again.
I chose them. Gladly. Fiercely.
But somewhere between their dreams, needs, and becoming, I lost my own.
Because they told me: Choose.
Mom or dreamer. Sacrifice or self. Giver or taker.
As if joy was a trade.
As if I couldn’t be… ALL of me.
But hear me now—
It was NEVER supposed to be an or.
It was ALWAYS meant to be AND.
I can love them AND love me.
I can show up for them AND chase what fuels me.
I can be a mother, a friend, a woman—AND take up space.
To choose them AND choose me too.
And then it happens—
I awaken at last,
I breathe. I step forward.
I take back every inch of space that was always mine.
To feel my pulse and know I am the one beating.
To Be Anything and Do Everything.
Not for them. But for me.
To write her happily ever after…
