Leaving was easy. Staying gone? Not so much.

*Originally published in Medium.

I’ve been in and out of medium.

I had accounts I can trace way back 2018, I guess. I’ve come and gone, started accounts, joined the Partner Program at some point. Shared a little, then vanished again.

Because here’s the truth: I get emotional. I disappear. I ghost myself.

I delete.

I deleted everything I built because I thought maybe I was too much. Maybe the world didn’t need one more girl writing from her feelings.

I left before anyone could miss me.

But no matter how I run from my words, they always come back. I thought leaving Medium would quiet the noise.

But the truth is, if writing is running deep in your veins, and life cuts deep, (because trust me it will) your word leaks out of somewhere — in conversations, in journal entries, in rants, in thoughts you try to push away.

Apparently, writing is how I clot.

Sometimes in clarity, but most of the time, in between tears.

So I kept writing.

I just had no place to put it.

Facebook? I have to filter because I’m scared of stepping on toes.
Instagram? Mostly photos so it’s not enough.
Journal? They helped but they were too private.

I was just too tired of dimming my words that my voice felt like a betrayal, not to the world but to myself.

I was tired of fitting in to the aesthetic. I was tired of trimming my words just to make it palatable.

I needed a place that could hold the volume and intensity of my words.

The weird thing is, people were looking for it. I received messages from friends, from strangers even, asking, “Where can I read the whole thing?”

And that shook me. Here I am trying to quiet my voice, meanwhile, others were looking for it. Not to be entertained, but to have someone who finally have the guts to push out their thoughts, someone who made them feel understood, someone who can articulate what people were trying to say but were too scared to do so.

It doesn’t only heal me, but heals other too.

So this is not just about writing anymore. I mean it is, but it’s more than that.

It’s for the women. For the me’s of this world who needs someone to ache for them — loudly, unapologetically.

For the ones who are still whispering the thoughts that are supposed to be screamed.

For the girls who were taught to be “nice” instead of “real.”

Yesterday, a comment said, “Your words are really beautiful can I borrow it?”

So for the ones who needed words, I will keep writing.

Until you find yours again, until. you’re ready to speak, I’ll keep speaking.