There’s a version of me
I keep seeing in my mind like a blurry photo.
Not perfect.
Not rich overnight.
Not famous for doing nothing.
Just… complete.
A person who wakes up without doubting themselves every morning.
A person who finishes what they start.
A person who doesn’t need to fake confidence
because peace finally lives in their chest like rent was paid on time.
And truth is—
I am not there yet.
Some days I move like fire.
Some days I move like a phone on one percent battery,
dim screen, low power mode,
still trying to answer life’s notifications.
I am still learning.
Still becoming.
Still stretching my mind
the same way people stretch a small blanket on a cold night
trying to cover everything at once.
I have failed quietly.
The kind of failure nobody claps for.
The kind where you smile in public
then stare at the ceiling at 2AM
replaying conversations
like missed calls from destiny.
I know what it feels like
to pray for growth
then panic when growth starts hurting.
Because nobody tells you
becoming better sometimes feels like losing yourself first.
You outgrow old habits.
Old friends.
Old excuses.
Even old versions of your own voice.
One day you wake up
and the things that used to entertain you
start feeling too small for your spirit.
And that change?
It’s lonely sometimes.
People celebrate results,
but nobody celebrates the season
where you are fighting yourself in silence.
The season where you are trying to stay disciplined
while your mind keeps negotiating with comfort.
The season where motivation disappears
and all you have left
is decision.
See, I used to think potential was something beautiful.
Like a gift wrapped with a bow on top.
But potential is heavy.
Because deep down
you know when you are called for more.
You feel it
when average starts irritating your soul.
When surviving is no longer enough.
When your dreams start pulling on your chest
like a child asking,
“Are we there yet?”
And no—
we are not there yet.
But we are moving.
That matters.
I may not have the whole map,
but I stopped waiting for perfect conditions to start walking.
Because life is not a movie montage.
There’s no background music when you choose discipline over excuses.
No audience cheering
when you wake up early and try again.
Sometimes growth looks boring.
Looks like repetition.
Looks like rejection emails.
Looks like starting over.
Looks like deleting pride
and asking for help.
Looks like trying again
with bruised confidence.
And I have done that.
I have restarted dreams
I buried with my own doubts.
I have looked at my reflection
and admitted,
“You are part of the problem.”
That honesty changed me.
Because healing begins
when excuses end.
I stopped blaming the world for everything.
Stopped treating procrastination like a personality trait.
Stopped romanticizing struggle
without changing my habits.
Now I’m learning that becoming
is less about giant moments
and more about daily decisions.
Tiny victories.
Tiny discipline.
Tiny effort repeated so many times
it finally becomes a different life.
And listen—
I still miss sometimes.
Still say the wrong things.
Still overthink.
Still compare my behind-the-scenes
to somebody else’s highlight reel.
But comparison is a thief
that enters through the eyes
and steals gratitude from the heart.
So now I clap for people
without questioning my own timing.
Because another person shining
does not mean my light was cancelled.
I am learning
that growth is not becoming somebody else.
It is finally becoming yourself
without fear.
The real you.
The unfinished you.
The trying-you.
The healing-you.
The disciplined-you.
The version of you
that keeps getting back up
even when life keeps swinging first.
And maybe that is what strength really is.
Not never falling.
Not pretending to have it all together.
But carrying hope
with shaking hands.
Still moving.
Still building.
Still believing
that one day your reality
will finally shake hands with your vision.
So no,
I am not everything I dream of yet.
But I am no longer who I used to be.
And that counts for something.
Every lesson.
Every setback.
Every closed door.
Every delayed answer.
Every lonely season.
Every failure that humbled me instead of destroying me—
all of it is shaping me into someone stronger.
Not overnight.
But brick by brick.
And until the day I meet the person I know I can become,
I will keep working.
Keep learning.
Keep failing forward.
Keep rebuilding.
Keep showing up.
Because my future self
is watching me right now
hoping I don’t quit halfway.
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Walking Shadow Poetry – Grow from what’s meant to kill you.
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