There comes a point in every woman's life when she becomes so busy being everything to everyone else that she forgets who she is.
She becomes the daughter who must make her family proud.
The granddaughter who tries not to disappoint the people who raised her.
The girlfriend who keeps giving, hoping that one day her love will finally be enough.
The friend who answers every call, listens to every problem, and somehow finds the strength to comfort everyone else, even when her own world is falling apart.
And somewhere along the way, between the expectations, the heartbreaks, the responsibilities, and the endless attempts to be enough, she forgets the one person she should never have abandoned.
Herself.
She had been that woman for far too long.
She had loved people who did not always know how to love her back. She had stayed in situations that left her questioning her worth. She had looked in the mirror and searched for flaws that might explain why someone had made her feel so difficult to love.
She had blamed her body.
Her personality.
Her emotions.
Sometimes, she had even blamed herself for expecting too much from people who had promised her so little.
But how much of herself was she supposed to lose before she finally realised that she was losing herself?
That question stayed with her.
It followed her into the quiet moments, when the world had nothing left to say and she was finally alone with her thoughts.
She thought about the nights she had cried without telling anyone. The arguments that had left her questioning her own reality. The relationships she had tried so hard to save, even when she was the only one holding on.
She thought about the girl who once sat by the window, holding a cup of hot chocolate while darkness filled her mind.
That girl had been tired.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of hurting.
Tired of trying to explain feelings that even she could barely understand.
And although she had chosen to stay that day, she knew that staying alive and learning how to live were two very different things.
She needed more than another morning.
She needed to find a reason to look forward to one.
For a long time, she had believed that becoming a better woman meant becoming someone who could tolerate more.
More disappointment.
More disrespect.
More sleepless nights spent wondering whether she was asking for too much.