People keep telling me how I should look, as if the mirror belongs to them. They say a girl should stay gentle, polished, never drift too far into dreams. And whenever I try embracing individuality, someone asks me to tone it down, to come back to their version of “real.”

Some nights, I think about what it would be like to vanish into the moon and stars — not as some grand escape, just as someone who’s had enough noise for a lifetime. Up there, the dark night sky doesn’t ask questions. The waning moon keeps to itself, fading without apology, returning without ceremony. I Read more…