I'm afraid

Who am I?

I am contained fury.

I am a storm on the verge of breaking.

I am the scream no one wants to hear because it is too honest, too dirty, too real.

And tonight…tonight I will bleed.

I will tear off this skin that no longer serves me.

I will face the fucking door I’ve kept locked for far too long.

Because behind it is the truth I avoid: I am no longer who I pretended to be.

I’m tired.

Tired of pretending I accept.

Tired of smiling while I die slowly.

Because I was not made to live on crumbs.

I was not born to fit into a mold designed to keep women small, docile, grateful.

I am not grateful.

I am hungry.

I want more.

I want everything.

I want to burn in every choice I make.

I want to live down to the bone, until I lose my breath, until the world can no longer contain me.

And what scares me is not failure.

It is power.

Mine.

It is knowing that if I let the chains fall, if I allow myself to be whole—no one will stop me.

And then…who will have the courage to stay?

Because in becoming that woman—untamed, insatiable, fierce—I will be dangerous.

I will be desired.

And I will be feared.

So complete that no man, no presence, no hand will be necessary.

And yes, I am afraid.

Afraid that by releasing this raw, brutal version of myself, I will be alone.

But do you know what is worse?

Pretending I am less.

Pretending I don’t want more.

Pretending I’m not exploding inside.

Tonight…I will not pretend.

I will open the door.

And fuck fear.

Because maybe…this isn’t loneliness.

Maybe it is, finally, freedom.