Unaltered Voices

I’ve been trapped in the same book. Rewriting the chapters that always ended the same. A story of repeated cycles finding my way out, only for the same spirit in a different form to drag me back to the same start. Love didn’t free me. Parties weren’t freedom either. New friends felt familiar, like déjà vu wrapped in false hope. Same script, different cast. But today, I set the book on fire. Forty-one years of recycled pain, burned to ash. This next book? It will not be predictable. It will not repeat. The characters will be new. The ending a plot twist no one saw coming. I’m leaving it all behind. You will never see me the way you knew me. I won’t return to this space, this energy, this endless grieving I’ve carried for the last twenty-one years. Today, with pen in hand, I write freedom. Freedom to create. Freedom to choose who gets access. Freedom to taste joy without apology. Freedom to do me for me. To everyone from the prior book, I wish you the ...

  Have you ever really paid attention to the advice people give you? When was the last time you were out with your girls, chatting it up, and you mentioned a situation in your relationship, only to be met with advice that made you pause? It sounded good, but deep down… something was off. Maybe you’ve opened up to a friend about the toxic relationship you were finally escaping, and she advised you to stay because “at least he pays all the bills.” Or maybe a relative told you, “A man will be a man,” while his betrayal was destroying you emotionally. And let’s not forget the advice from certain religious leaders that has kept women stagnant for decades, never empowering them to rise, only teaching them to stay low, silent, and humble, even when their spirit was dying inside. Seriously, pay attention to what people are saying to you. A lot of the time, the advice people give reveals more about their mindset , their hidden feelings about you , or their need for control than it does a...

  Why do I keep getting lost? Every time I claw my way back to the path, Something pulls me sideways, Detours me into darkness, And my hands fumble for hope I can’t seem to hold. The last time, I lost it so far back It took me years to trace my footsteps. I found pieces of myself in the lost and found, Hidden between the faded pages of old messages, Where I met my ex And thought maybe they were the way forward. But they weren’t. They were just another maze That swallowed me whole. Another time, I lost hope And stumbled on it again in a new opportunity A fresh door, a small light. But every time I sink, It takes forever to climb back out. Searching for keys that were right in front of me Doesn’t compare to losing something I sometimes handed away willingly. Growing up, Hope slipped from my hands so many times That I had to rebuild it from scratch. You’d think after that, I’d have learned to hold it tight. But here I am again, Empty-handed, Looking around for a ride to go pick it up....