more than an echo.

how easy it is,
in this life,
to step into the skin of someone else.
to inhabit their rooms,
to make a home of borrowed dreams.
to slip quietly into a life that appears one way,
yet feels another.
to tangle yourself in desire not your own,
wearing the expectations of a stranger,
a persona,
a performance,
cornered by fears of old.

sure, models exist.
they serve as beautiful templates,
guiding lights along the way.
but no one is you.
no one carries your fingerprint,
your touch,
your way of moving through the world.

let these models inspire,
but never become the measure
of what is possible for you.
for they are not you.
and if you are not careful,
their map becomes a destination you never chose.
a place that speaks nothing to your heart,
yet is followed,
blindly,
all the same.

awaken.
listen for your own voice.
be inspired by the music of others,
but return,
always,
to the sound within.
become deeply acquainted with
the rhythm of your own truth.
learn its timing.
trust its cadence.

you were never meant
to echo the song of another.
you are the composer
of an orchestration never heard before.
of a song no one else can write.
so let it play.
loudly.
fiercely.
beautifully.

i am listening.