Dear Love,

Our love started like a seed planted deep in the soil. The darkness surrounding that seed represented us—jumping in blindly, not truly knowing each other or ourselves. We didn’t understand our triggers, our traumas, or our insecurities. We were two different people carrying heavy pasts and unhealed wounds. A mixture of excitement and fear in our new relationship occasionally caused conflict.

But all we knew was that we saw the good in each other and felt a love worth fighting for. And somehow, that was enough to try.

As a new couple, at times we fought each other even as we fought the world. We didn’t realize we were repeating unspoken patterns or how different our perspectives of the world were. We pushed and pulled, trying to drag the other into our own world instead of learning how to build one together.

With the sun shining on us through the darkness, within the cracks in our chaos, we found peace, joy, and laughter. With every argument, we learned a little more about each other.

That gave us the opportunity to see one another for who we really are. Our guards came down, and with that, we helped each other heal. We softened the hardened places—healing the inner child within—even while standing in the storm. We learned to fix the mess amid the storm, and slowly, we grew—together, not apart.

We began showing up for each other in the ways we both needed. Where the world had hardened our hearts and spirits, we became each other’s haven. Every day, we wake up and say, “I choose you. I choose us.”

We no longer use our past against each other; we only look back to see how far we’ve come.

Just like a garden, we have tended to what we planted—our love. We pulled out the weeds—our toxic traits and immature habits—and watered the roots with patience, grace, and understanding. Day by day, we nurtured what had been broken in our relationship, allowing love to blossom.

Like a sunflower, we stretched above our struggles, always turning our faces toward the light. Like a rose, our love flourished through the seasons, growing stronger not despite the challenges but because of them. We have become strong together and we’ll remain strong, hopeful, and full of grace.

Yes, we started backwards, but God turned it into something beautiful. God put us together so that we could grow in love, be rooted in faith, and bloom into something rare and real.

Today, we are still going strong. Our separate worlds are becoming one rooted in trust, respect, and understanding. As a couple, we have learned each other’s ways and the reasons behind them. Together, we no longer play screaming tennis; we talk through our disagreements and fight only the world outside our doors, protecting what we have built and keeping it sacred.
We continue to water each other and lift each other up. We have blossomed together—and we will continue to bloom.

Forever choosing you and matching effort

—Me

style score 100%

I’m 19 and I’m nervous about my future. There’s so much pressure. In high school, the rush was to get into a good college, join clubs, and get good grades. College admission defined my path. I didn’t think farther than that.
I only had one dream: to make Guam a better place.
I chose the college offering the best financial aid; I got what I wanted. Majoring in biology and joining a sport that provided a scholarship. I was less proud and more terrified. Not a thrill-ride: no, it was an ugly monster I didn’t know how to fight or befriend.
I found it: the spark. It led me to pour myself into presentations, relationships, and journals filled with dreams. I was ready to conquer the world because I understood my potential and believed in myself.
This same spark filled my soul — it made me who I was. Excited. Passionate. In school, I was number eleven, a well-known social butterfly and advocate, in a serious five-year relationship. I was running with no breaks.
Once I got into college, the spark mutated into fear, homesickness, and guilt. 5,500 miles away from home, I was one of few to go off-island for college in my school. Rank didn’t matter, resume wiped clean, relationship ended. Restarting, I worried I was falling behind.
Instead of As without studying, I got Fs while studying. Meeting people with better backgrounds, advantages, and grades. I was failing school and life.
I didn’t think I was the best on Guam, but I thought I was special. Only to find out, I’m a failure — didn’t even get a headstart.
My athletic career concluded; resulting in disability, chronic pain, and no scholarship.
My spark had died, and it seemed I had died with it.
New to the states, little family, single again, I couldn’t concentrate. Sleepless nights from severe pain. The notion that I couldn’t fit in etched itself in my bones, digging my grave deeper till I only found dirt in my lungs with no one to grieve the loss except myself.
In my grief, I turned to bulimia and addiction to cope. I lost friends and family who felt helpless and frustrated.
They would ask me, “What happened to you?” Just a knot in my throat as an answer.
I almost gave up.
When you lose everything and everyone, you’re supposed to keep fighting, like an awe-inspiring battle, but I let them win.
There should be a positive turnaround here but there’s none. I still struggle every day, but I am my only advocate — no one else.
I asked myself how to get back the spark, questioning my morals, ethics, and happiness. Choosing between happiness or stability and glory.
What was next in my life? I’d ask myself. I knew the answer, and I knew it would disappoint the people I love. The excited expressions from being a STEM major would lead to disappointment when they realized I’d changed.
I cried a lot.
About the helplessness I was feeling, the anxiety about my future, the fear of peaking in high school, the guilt of losing everyone, and the realization that my future was doomed.
I hated myself.
Then I asked myself: what was I living for?
The spark.
With a slap across the face, gritting my teeth, I made a deal with my dad. Apply for this STEM scholarship and have a full-ride internship — a plan my family would be happy with — or change my major with their disapproval… but I would be happier. Obsessively waiting for a response, I wanted the only thing I kept receiving: failure.
When I finally got my response, “Congratulations, you failed!” I was free.
Remember that dream about making Guam a better place? I decided to become a social worker.
This isn’t a fantastic essay about how I’ve gotten my happy ending. No, I haven’t, yet.
But this is the first step to getting better.
Trust me, I’m still figuring it out. I have bills to pay, pain to manage, grades to keep up. But Social Work feels like home, and I think I’m starting to see the spark again.
Weak but glowing, it feels familiar. I almost wanted to cry when I saw them again — there you are, I thought.
I’m 19 and I’m worried about my future. But I think I’ll be okay. And I hope one day the spark is strong enough to bring back the passion I’ve missed — and a passion to think more about my future.
Life is unexpected. You lose your spark, you lose yourself, but then you find it again, even if it’s weaker.
To whoever is reading this: there is light in the darkness. Go out there and find your spark. Or don’t — you get to choose.
That’s the beauty of life.
84%

Dear Unsealed,
I wrote a song.
LOST IN THE SHADOWS FINDING THE LIGHT

Dear Unsealed,

Sunrise paints the western sky,

Colors burst as day draws nigh.

A gentle breeze begins to blow,

Whispering secrets soft and low.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

Dew-kissed petals, softly gleam,

Reflecting sunlight, like a dream.

The world is waking, one by one,

Beneath the warmth of the rising sun.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

With every sunrise, hope takes flight,

Chasing shadows from the night.

A brand new day, a chance to start,

With open heart and joyful heart.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

The day unfolds, its beauty bright,

A world of wonder, pure delight.

Lost in the shadows, searching for light,

A path undefined, a future unclear.

Doubt clouded my vision, dimming the day,

But hope whispered softly, guiding the way.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

The journey is long, with trials and fears,

But resilience is born from overcoming tears.

I stumble and fall, but I rise once again,

Embracing the challenges, learning to mend.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

The past is a teacher, the present a guide,

The future’s a canvas, where dreams reside.

I paint my own story, with colors so bright,

Creating my destiny, shining my light.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

Soaring, my spirit is soaring,

My purpose is earned, my light is pouring.

I wrote this today

Along life’s highway

As I walk through the shadows in the dark

I do not fear the moonlit night

I arise in the morning light

Thankful I can see the light

Shining through my window shades

The shadows dissipate from the dark

It is not too late

to open the gate

To watch the sunlight spark!

The shades open up

To see my shadow fade

Score 65%

The Recipe

I have lived more than half a century on this planet. How can that even be? I’ve examined my life and tried to find just the right comparison to make. The perfect analogy. At first I looked for something grand, elusive and brilliant, but found those pieces just don’t describe me. My life is best described as a casserole. Some of the ingredients don’t seem to make sense, at first glance they have no place in the dish at all. Yet, when added to the other ingredients, you realize its purpose. Heartache and tears can cause the dish to be bitter. Life’s pains can seem futile as if they would add too much complexity to the dish. But there is more. Those are just the dry ingredients. When you mix in the joyous expectation from saying the words “I do” you start to see it. Two naive kids building a life together on a dream and a dime. Then comes children with dandelion bouquets and slobbery no reason kisses. Bills and a mortgage are often ingredients you would like to omit, but without it there would be no home for bedtime stories and blanket forts. The baking time is the hardest to accept. You often feel it is done, you are done! But hang in there. There is more to learn and more to do. I felt the recipe was complete, but then along came grandchildren. It is an ingredient that I had never tasted before, both sweet and spicy, perfect for this dish. As the recipe seems to be a hot mess, it allows us to love, to lose, to tire and to grow. What would I change? Sometimes everything and sometimes nothing. Our choices guide our path and our decisions won’t always be perfect. So I will keep adding to the dish. More kindness, more dreams, more love. The casserole is my legacy. The recipe is complicated, and takes a lot of trial and error. Don’t expect yours to taste exactly like mine. Adjust the ingredients to your liking and enjoy.

Style score 100

Dear World,
Let me tell you how my season has blossomed.
Think of my mind as the flower, my thoughts the petals.
For a long time, they stayed curled—tight, unsure if they were even worthy of blooming. My thoughts repeated, stuck in survival, wrapped in fear. I was alive, but not living. Thinking, but not thriving.
Winter was cold—not just outside, but within. My body slowed. My spirit quieted. I moved through the motions, but something in me waited. Longed for warmth. Waited for light. Waited for me.
And now, spring is here.
Slowly, gently, I unfold. Each day, I peel back a petal. I let more of me breathe. I don’t force or rush it. I’ve learned that blossoming isn’t sudden perfection—it’s trusting the process. Even when it’s messy. Even when it hurts.
This season, I’ve learned grace.
I no longer shame myself for resting. I don’t call myself lazy for moving at my pace. I’ve stopped watering people who never poured into me. Instead, I pour into myself—little by little, day by day.
I’m unlearning the lie that growth must be loud. Sometimes, the deepest healing happens in silence. In solitude. In softness.
There was a time I shrank to fit rooms too small for me. I questioned my voice, my power, my presence. But now? I’m learning to take up space—not with arrogance, but with rootedness. Blossoming means returning to who I’ve always been.
Truth is, I’m not broken. I’m not behind. I’m blooming—in my own time.
Some days are still hard. Some thoughts still stay closed. But I don’t fear them anymore. I’ve made peace with the parts of me still growing. I no longer force them open. I trust the season I’m in.
Spring is teaching me the beauty of becoming. That softness is strength. That joy isn’t something I chase—it’s something I grow.
Right now, my life blooms in small, powerful ways. I set boundaries without guilt. I show up for myself. I feel the sun on my skin. Music hits deeper when I’m not rushing. I’m letting go of people who made me doubt my worth, and I’m finding peace in simply being.
I don’t need perfect to feel whole. I don’t need a big transformation to prove I’ve grown. My evolution is quiet. It’s in how I speak to myself. How I choose peace over proving. How I finally believe I deserve a soft, intentional life.
This spring, I am my own garden.
I plant patience.
Water creativity.
Pull weeds of doubt and comparison.
And I bloom—fully, freely, finally, for me.
To the world, I say this:
We all bloom differently.
Some bloom late.
Some bloom in silence.
Some bloom again and again after being cut down.
And all of it is valid.
All of it is beautiful.
So if you’re still waiting for your season—trust, it’s coming.
If you’re still in the cold—know warmth is on its way.
And if you’ve begun blooming, even just a little—celebrate it.
You’re not who you were. You’re becoming someone stronger, softer, and more true than ever before.
I am.
And I’m proud of that.
With love,
Lanaya ♡
(style score: %100)

I’ve always been interested in all things God-related. I’m passionate about learning more about how to grow spiritually. I’m convinced I want to lead a more intimate life and relationship with God.

Now that I have three children, I see things from another perspective; sometimes the problems at home are overwhelming, and that’s when I see my spiritual life blossoming in all its splendor, because in these moments I turn to God.

I’ve learned many things related to fasting and prayer, and I’ve even put them into practice. I feel that with each passing day, God reveals new knowledge to me that undoubtedly increases my faith.

My spirituality is blossoming wonderfully. I feel more and more intimacy and connection with God as the days pass. My faith is bearing fruits of peace, joy, temperance, and wisdom. I feel like a more secure woman at the side of my Creator, knowing that he loves me above all things and will never abandon me.

My life is blossoming beautifully because my faith is placed in God. When life becomes uncertain and difficult, my faith rescues me from the storm. It is then that I realize my life is changing thanks to the power of the almighty.

It is beautiful to be blossoming in the hands of the one who created me, because he knows both, the beautiful petals of my roses and the sharp thorns of my stems. He prepares me for the harvest and waters the soil in which I am planted with a shower of blessings.

In this process of spiritual blossoming, God is responsible for my life turning out in his way. He makes the beautiful, and sometimes even the withered, within me blossom. I am sure that this spiritual blossoming will be ever deeper and more lasting. My flowers will be the most radiant in my garden, which is my home.

I feel my spiritual life blossoming amazingly. God is the fertilizer of my life, the one who, with his power and my tears, makes the withered flowers in my desert to bloom. He provides the means for me to flourish in every aspect of my life. I only have to place my faith in the most wonderful being that can exist in this life.

My spiritual life is blooming. I can perceive it in every answered prayer, in every moment of intimacy I spend with God, and I can feel his love. He always has ears ready to listen to me. He always comforts me in unimaginable ways. I have felt that my spiritual life is in full bloom because God has placed people in my path who guide me more and more into his presence.

Now I can be sure that I am blossoming spiritually because I can be aware of God’s infinite power. I am waiting for God’s confirmation and affirmation of my calling on this earth so that this spiritual blossoming may be multiplied, spread and transforms in what God has already destined and prepared for my life to come.
style score 77%

Dear Unsealers,
When Carmella and I married each other, we opted to write our own vows. Keeping them under wraps until the big day was both tantalizing and tricky. I found that the more I wrote and the more I homed in on a vision of dedicating my entire energy to building a life with her, the more I wanted to tell her all about it. I would catch myself dabbling into words or phrases from my vows at dinner and quickly reeling them back in, smoothing the moment over with an awkward laugh.
Then, the most beautiful thing happened on our wedding day, when we revealed our written vows. Independently, but remarkably in sync, we both used the same tree metaphor to describe our love, life together, promises, and future hopes. The vows exchanged spoke of tending to this tree- providing shelter, shade, and sunlight to it through our committed acts of love. Our imaginations both visualized working together daily to trim the damaged branches, to tend to the weak spots, to water the roots, and to do all we could to aid that tree in growing to its sky-high potential.
The metaphor felt like a perfect fit then, and in the time since, it’s only grown (pun intended 🤓) even more apt- especially since welcoming two daughters into our lives, both branches and blossoms beautifying this sapling.
Alongside the beauty of the journey, it’s important to note that parenting hasn’t always been a breeze. We’ve weathered our share of storms from sleepless nights to interminable illnesses to the vortex of endless questions about how best to guide, coach, and support without coddling, spoiling, or impeding- and yet, the tree stands stronger for all of this.
Roots provide resilience.
And now, my wife has within her the gift of new life, our son. As we prepare to meet him, I return once again to that tree, reckoning with and reveling in this new bloom. The words below are for him and for us, fertilizer and freedom.
When we met your sisters, we met with new dreams.
The tears from our eyes, flowing in streams.
It’s hard to think of a time when they weren’t here,
And still, despite knowing the beauty of the gift,
I’m tempted at times to give into fear-
To wonder and worry at this frightening fruitful frontier.
Can I truly be trusted to tend to something so dear?
Will I even know which way to steer?
I’m still learning who I am and who I can be…
So how can I start to pioneer possibly?
How can I, a blind man, teach someone to see?
But then those bright eyes and even those cries
Remind me to tell those fears fast to flee.
When I look at our children, and gaze at their faces
Then I see the wonder, the magic, the glorious traces,
And I’m reminded of love and all of its graces,
All of this splendor reminds me to breathe.
And now, I remember.
There’s new fruit on the vine
A new star to shine
In this family constellation of love.
As you come to our home,
And you add to our poem,
We’ll help you to fit like a glove.
And even when it’s tough,
When we’ve all had enough,
We’ll stick together through each push and shove.
We’ll give water and shade and sun each day
Providing what’s right as you grow and you play,
You precious gift from above.
For this tree where you’ll bloom
Will have always have room
For you to become who you are.
We’ll show you the ropes,
All in the hopes
That you’ll find your own way to go far.
We’ll water and weed,
Give you what you need,
Leave the door to our hearts always ajar.
Though the world may be dark,
And the threads may be thin,
We’ll ground in the light that’s within.
We’ll keep our hearts open, and keep these hearts free
For now, my son, it’s you who will be
Another beautiful branch of this bold tree.
So grow, little branch, in your own gentle way.
Let us be the roots who steady each sway.
Through the seasons that change, and the storms that will come
This tree’s where we’ll be, this tree’s where we’re from.

My style score is an 82%.

Dear World,

You ever look up, squint at a cloud, and think: “eh, 3/10?” Yeah. That’s me now. That’s my blossoming.

I’ve become a self-proclaimed cloud critic.
Every Sunday, I lie on a patch of grass behind the volleyball pit outside my building and review clouds like they’re auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. That one? “Too try-hard.” This one? “Soft edges, tragic backstory, 4.5 stars.” The one just floating past there? “It’s giving… raccoon in therapy.” I have a Notes file titled Sky Stuff. People stare. I wave like royalty.

At first it was a joke. Something to do when I didn’t know what to do with myself. But then it became a ritual. A quiet kind of devotion.

Because clouds don’t ask to be perfect. They show up, they shapeshift, they fall apart mid-performance and still drift like it means something.

I think I’m learning to do the same.

Style Score: 66%

For the longest time, I’ve had a fear of being perceived. When I noticed anyone noticing me, I would freeze. Whatever I was doing would cease. This would continue on until I reached my twenties. Having many gifts of expression can become overwhelming because you aren’t sure of where to start.
Since I was a child, I have always had a love of writing, singing and movement. I treated each of these journeys as a singular path, not truly realizing how connected all of my skills were in the world of the arts. I would sing with my sister, Imani, into the late hours of the night. Imani would come home from school and teach me the skills she learned in vocal training.
Although I was a writer, I didn’t understand the concept of songwriting. I was fluid in the art of writing short stories, poems, and essays. The concept of songwriting used to make my head ache. I would begin thinking too much about the structure of the song, the melody and the lyrics. It all seemed a difficult skill to master. Until I met someone that gave me an opportunity to create something new. He asked if I wanted to create my very own musical EP.
It was time to put myself to the challenge and treat this as I would any writing assignment. It was necessary to dial down the doubts playing in my mind. When I selected the instrumentals, the words flowed effortlessly. By allowing myself to flow and not worry about mistakes, I discovered how creative I could be.
My inner dialogue improved as I allowed myself to embark on this newer journey. Treat yourself as you would treat your favorite person in the world. I began reading more books that supported having a healthier mind. By taking the time to observe my own thoughts and making adjustments has been the reason I could say yes to trying songwriting.
I had to switch my mindset to listen to the music and the melody the way a singer would. It felt like I dialed into a radio station while listening to the beats simultaneously. I began hearing lyrics and a fresh flow for each track. It was at this moment I realized I was allowing myself to flow. Once I solidified how I wanted everything to sound, I got into the studio and recorded each song.
Although the journey has just begun, I truly am grateful for where this has led me so far. I have met quality people that share in my love of art and music. This new chapter in my life is called Bloom.

Pro Writing Score:100%

Early spring is bringing tiny green leaves to the tips of your twigs.

Last year we planted you. We were so proud of your place in our yard. Big plans and juicy apples were expected, but then a plague of deer came and ate all the budding, baby apples you had sprouted. Deer ate many of your leaves, too.

We were devastated.

As the end of winter approached and you looked so frail, we worried you might not make it to year two. All sticks and no style, you looked weak after months of cold and snow and ice and wind.

You survived. You may still thrive.

We have a plan to hide your apples this year, to try and save them from the many savage deer that will come for your tasty fruit. My wife read that one inventive gardener hangs Christmas tree decorations, red and green bulbs, on the branches of her apple trees. The deer try their best to bite them, but they are quickly made frustrated when they can’t break through. They give up and get going. We will try this trick this year.

Our dreams for you are blossoming as you grow, and we hope you will sprout apples as spring turns to summer.

We will water around you daily. You are in a sunny spot. We will protect you from your predators.

All signs point to Pink Lady apples in the future.

Godspeed.

ProWritingAid Style Score: 76

Life has felt aggressively slow,
As if time has a personal vendetta on my goal.
I lay in bed as the sun glow,
These four walls are taking a physical toll.
My inner voice turns my bed into quick sand,
But I refuse to let my thoughts have the winning hand.
I step outside and I breathe in peace,
I step towards everything that I have planned.
Sweat beads down my face as I walk,
My breathe is strained and I can barely talk.
A bird just flew by and made a low coo,
The beauty in its feathers are bold and true.
I’m glad I decided to get out of the bed this morning,
It really takes one step at a time, I’m learning.
My thoughts of failure still reside,
But I am stronger now so I push them to the side.
I am not able to do much in this season,
For financial, credit and many other reasons.
But what I can do is take another step,
And do everything I can to prep;
For what is owed and was stolen from me,
Will be replenished in my pocket’s times three.
I step again as I struggle to breathe,
I step again away from everything I need to leave.
The passing cars, the beading sun, that gust of wind,
Reminders that a slow life is a luxury and a forever win.
I don’t want to live life focused on the next success,
I want to live life walking away from unnecessary stress.
Another step makes my lungs wheeze,
Another step makes my legs freeze.
I pause where I stand, and reach out my hand.
Towards a rose that blossomed from a bush.
I wrap my hands around the stem and give it a little push.
The thorns are sharp and my hands depart,
As the rose rest back in its place.
So, I leave it right there and continue on my pace,
Because peace and beauty needs its space.
Better understanding for what I need is blossoming this spring,
I tread on my walk and smile at everything life is about to bring.

Style score: 70%

A whisper runs through my mind,
Timid and scared.
While I stare on blankly,
Pretending I’m not there.
A thought tickles lips,
In need of fresh air.
While I stare on blankly,
Wishing to be spared.
Small sounds tumble loose,
Braver than before.
I’m no longer staring blankly,
Though the chokehold has all but won.
Thunder fills my chest,
As I look at what’s begun.
There’s fire in my eyes,
As I fight to stay undone.
The whip cracks,
As I strike out with words.
I’m stronger than I thought,
While I turn back for none.

Style Score 100%

I used to fold myself small—
into silence, into compliance, into whatever shape felt safest. I masked my truth because the world told me it was “too much.” Too loud. Too different. Too complicated. Too me.

But here’s how I’m blossoming:

I am no longer asking for permission to exist as I am.

I wear what feels right on my body. I speak in the ways my brain works. I stim without apology. I teach without pretending to be “neutral.” I write books that disrupt the systems that once tried to erase me. I’m reclaiming space—not just in rooms, but in the narrative itself.

This isn’t a soft bloom. It’s messy and raw and defiant.
But it’s mine.

And I’m not shrinking back.

Sincerely,
Someone finally growing in her own direction

My life has fell apart.
Like the the trees in the fall
But just like the spring
Time, here comes the growth
Spirt. New branches reaching the crown,
New leaf’s Blossoming,
Dancing and blowing freely
While the winds get a Lil breezy.
Standing a Lil taller, feeling
A bit wiser, new heights have been
Reached. Now I’m starting to branch out.
In other words, I’m networking.
Using different platforms
To express my growth & release my pain,
That has been felt with my brain.
Not to brag and boast but
To allow others to Blossom & grow.

My confidence blooms like spring’s first rose, once shy, now proud in the glow of a crowd, no longer afraid to radiate beauty, to walk a runway of my design,where compliments swirl and lift me high. My confidence is blossoming

I celebrate every curve, small or bold, fit or unique—each tells a tale of triumph and journey, riding the waves of doubt, held up by whispers of strength that flow through my veins. My confidence is blossoming

Looking in the mirror, I see more than just a reflection; I find the worth I’ve gathered—golden threads woven from resilience, a tapestry of self-love, unfolding in vivid strokes. My confidence is blossoming

I’ve met my detractors with a smile, letting my worth become my answer, each check I cash, a silent rebuke to those who said I couldn’t stand tall. My confidence is blossoming

Grateful, I bask in the light, no more clinging to shadows of comparison,for even in storms, I shine through, humbled yet fierce in my embrace of the confidence that continues to bloom—each petal a testament, each moment a celebration of the radiant being I’ve become. My confidence is blossoming