There was a voice inside her that no one ever heard.
Not because it was too soft —
but because she kept it hidden.

She learned early that her truth was “too much.”
Too intense.
Too inconvenient.
Too real.

So she buried it.

Under smiles.
Under silence.
Under the need to be liked.

Years passed.

And the voice grew restless.
It stirred in her chest.
It scratched at her throat.
It whispered in her dreams.

But still — she said nothing.

Until one day, the voice stopped waiting.

It broke through her ribs like light through old wood.
It cracked her spine with a roar.
It poured out of her mouth like fire and tears.

And the world didn’t end.
No one died.
No one left.

Only she changed.

She stood in the wreckage,
and finally heard herself clearly.

And it was not too much.
It was her.

✨

Some truths are not meant to be tamed.
They are meant to be returned to.