The Version Nobody Met

There’s a version of me that nobody really knows.

She laughs louder. She speaks without rehearsing her words first. She doesn’t constantly wonder if she’s being “too much” or whether someone’s energy has changed. She leaves when something hurts instead of staying just because she’s attached.

Sometimes I think she disappeared somewhere between trying to be understood and trying not to disappoint everyone.

People know the version of me that learned when to stay quiet, when to forgive, when to pretend something didn’t hurt, and when to say “it’s okay” even when it wasn’t.

But somewhere underneath all of that, there’s still that girl.

Maybe she isn’t gone.

Maybe she’s just waiting for a place where she doesn’t have to shrink herself to belong.

And maybe one day, I’ll stop being afraid of becoming her again.