This is me.
Not the perfectly curated version you see online.
Not the girl with everything figured out,
but the one still learning how to breathe through uncertain seasons.
I’ve had days when I prayed and nothing moved.
Nights when I cried so quietly, even my pillow stayed still.
I’ve smiled through storms just so no one would ask, “Are you okay?”
Because sometimes, explaining your pain feels heavier than carrying it.
But this is me, unfiltered.
The real version.
The one who’s walked through shame, failure, and silent wars with her own mind.
And yet, I’m still here.
Not perfect, not polished but present.
I no longer need to act strong all the time.
I’ve learned that vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s truth in motion.
It’s saying, “Yes, I’m still healing, but I’m still hopeful too.”
The filters may hide the tears,
but they can’t hide the grace that keeps me standing.
Because every time life broke me,
God rebuilt me quietly, piece by piece,
stronger than before, softer too.
So this is me,
not where I want to be yet,
but far from where I used to be.
Still growing. Still trusting. Still shining.
And if my story ever makes someone whisper,
“Me too,”
then I know my unfiltered truth has done its job.
Temilade Alokan
Light Lamp
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