Monologue #5: The Release

I have been angry.

Not the loud kind. Not the firebrand rage that splits walls and scorches bridges. No. Mine was quieter, but no less consuming—a silent storm, coiling in my spine, whispering distractions into every corner of my days.

For three days, I floated, disconnected. I posted things that didn’t match -I mixed songs and most of it just off skew.... I said I was fine when I was unraveling. I danced the old dance—pleaser, appeaser, silent tiptoer in a world that never noticed the bruises blooming on my self-worth.

And then, clarity.

It didn’t arrive with trumpets. It came in a hush, like the universe cracked a window in my ribcage and let the truth drift in.

I am not in control.

Not of others. Not of outcomes. Not of the tangled ballet that life choreographs without my permission. I had clutched tightly to the reins of illusion, thinking I could steer the chaos if I just smiled hard enough, bent far enough, stayed small enough.

But no.

That was a lie.

And like all lies, it demanded my peace in payment.

So I let go.

Not with fury—but with softness. I handed my anger to the wind. I offered my need for control to the sky. I buried the burden at the universe’s feet, whispered: “You carry this. I’m done.”

And I chose me.

Not selfishly. Not recklessly. Just... honestly. Fully. Finally.

I will no longer fold myself into the shapes others find comfortable. I am not here to prop up the happiness of those who cannot tend to their own gardens. Their peace is not my business. Their chaos is not my responsibility.

I am not their mirror, their balm, their savior.

I am mine.

And in this choosing, I have no apology to give. I do not shrink from the surprise in their eyes. Let them adjust. I am adjusting, too—to the wild power of being true to myself.

I am light.
I am love.
I am protected.
I am hollow—so that I may be filled.
So I may be a vessel of purpose

So that I may be aligned with what seeks to flow through me

And this morning, late in the waking, I rose with peace stitched into the lining of my breath.

It is what it is.

And I am enough for it.

With Grace & Ink,

Mai