I used to speak in echoes,

repeating what the world wanted to hear.

Every smile rehearsed,

every nod calculated.

But lately,

my laugh comes too early,

too loud—

and I let it.

The lines around my eyes

are real this time.

No performance.

No shield.

Someone called my name,

and I turned without flinching.

I didn’t brace.

I didn’t shrink.

The mask is slipping.

Not from fear.

Not from failure.

But because I don’t need it anymore.

I catch my reflection,

and for once,

it doesn’t look like a stranger.

It looks like me—

finally.

And I like who I see.