I win in silence—
the kind of silence that smells like ambition
and yesterday’s coffee.
The kind of silence where no one sees me
But everyone somehow feels my footsteps
Getting closer to my destiny.
I rise before the sun can ask questions,
stretch my determination,
and whisper to myself,
“Let’s do this before my excuses wake up.”
I work boldly—
not loudly.
I don’t need a parade.
I don’t need confetti.
I don’t even need witnesses, to be honest.
(Though a standing ovation wouldn’t hurt.)
People underestimate me—
some with confidence,
some with enthusiasm,
Some like it to be their part-time job.
Bless their hearts.
Meanwhile, I’m out here bending reality
with discipline and a good moisturizer.
And after the hustle,
after the grind,
after the silent victories piled higher
than the laundry I still haven’t folded—
I retreat to my sacred ritual:
Self-care.
A bath.
A nap.
A face mask.
A moment to simply sit and whisper,
“You did that.”
Because I did.
And I will again tomorrow.
I stay positive—
not because life is gentle,
But because faith looks better on me
than fear ever did.
Every day I win a little—
in the dark,
in the quiet,
in the spaces where no one claps.
And one day,
when the world finally notices,
I’ll smile with elegant grace and say,
“Oh, this?
I’ve been doing this for ages.”
For now,
I’ll keep rising like a whispered prayer,
a soft storm,
a woman who wins daily
without needing anyone to know—
Except for the mirror,
which nods back at me like,
“Girl.
You’re unstoppable.”
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