One day she woke up and realised
that she had become the woman of her dreams.
All those lonely nights
when she wanted to rip out her soul
and escape from her own skin
had paid off.
All those dry tears,
silent screams,
and aimless prayers
had made her the woman of her own dreams.
No more waiting for someone to come and save her.
No more men to make her feel whole.
No more compliments to make her feel beautiful.
No more waiting for the perfect moment.
No more need to learn more.
No more not being enough.
No more being too much.
More “no” than “yes.”
Yes to things that are 100 percent.
Yes to quiet moments.
Yes to listening deeply.
Yes to being guided by her own soul.
Yes to careless play without the guilt and rush.
Yes to being more than enough.
Yes to being the woman of her dreams.
She made a commitment to live.
To focus on real things that matter.
To no longer keep herself small
by imagined fears.
To take risks and laugh louder
than ever before.
To hug her friends
like they are newborn puppies.
To speak louder
and never giggle away her truth.
To stop worrying about the rolls on her belly
when she sits down.
To sit less and run more. Play more.
To make love instead of fight over unwashed dishes.
To leave more dishes unwashed
and instead, read a good book.
To send more postcards to her grandparents.
To spend less time on social media.
To be grateful for life.
To live and love, loud.
To be the woman of her own dreams.
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