The Stranger I’ve Become

 I don’t know when it changed.

Not all at once—
just slowly,
quietly,
without warning.

One day I looked in the mirror
and the person staring back
felt unfamiliar.

The smile didn’t reach my eyes,
my voice sounded softer,
like it was afraid of being heard.
And something in me
felt missing.

I used to be full of light,
quick to laugh,
eager to speak,
alive in every moment.
Now I hesitate.
Now I overthink.
Now I shrink myself
just to keep others comfortable.

I started saying “I’m fine”
so much
that I forgot what not being fine
even felt like.
I stopped showing my sadness
because no one really listened.

People say,
“You’ve changed.”
And I have.
But they never ask why.

They don’t see the nights I spent
crying silently into my pillow.
The way I slowly stopped texting first.
The way I began to feel like a burden
in rooms I used to feel safe in.

I miss the old me.
The girl who felt everything
and didn’t apologize for it.
The one who laughed too loud
and believed in people too much.
But maybe she’s still here.
Maybe just tired.
Maybe just hiding
until it feels okay to be her again.

I’m not lost—
just learning.
Trying to feel whole again
without becoming smaller for anyone else.

And I know I’ll get there.
Because underneath everything,
she’s still me.
And I deserve to come home
to myself.

“The stranger I’ve become is not someone I planned to be—but perhaps she is who I needed to become to survive.”