the witness
You saw it all and were told it was nothing.
You remember the tension before the words came. The coded looks. The breath-holding. You learned early that truth could cost you. Still, you watched, recorded, remembered. You carry the ache of knowing and the fatigue of silence.
You burned before you were allowed to shine.
You were called dramatic. Too much. Too loud. But your light was never the problem—it was their inability to stand near it. You dimmed yourself to survive. But the fire is intact. And it remembers.
You held what would’ve broken them.
They poured their rage, their sorrow, their unmet needs into you. And you held it all. With a smile, with grace, with your body. You learned to stretch past your edges. But now it’s time to pour yourself back into your own hands.
The Blade
You did what they wouldn’t dare.
You cut the cord. Spoke the truth. Named the thing. Left. You were called cruel, selfish, disloyal. But you chose life over legacy. You chose clarity over comfort. You are not the wound—you are the scalpel.
The Mirror
You showed them who they were—and paid for it.
You didn’t mean to confront them. You just existed. And in you, they saw what they’d buried. What they denied. They turned on you, tried to shatter you. But the mirror never breaks—it just learns to reflect wisely.
The Anchor
You kept it all from sinking.
You were the one they leaned on. The strong one. The one who never fell apart. But inside, the pressure was tectonic. You were more than reliable—you were holding the damn world. It’s okay to let go now.
The Key
You found a way out and opened it for others.
You cracked the system. Smuggled in truth. Escaped the roles. You left breadcrumbs, even if no one followed. You never stopped mapping exits. Even now, your hands remember the feel of every lock.
The Storm
You weren’t chaotic—you were honest.
Your feelings were labeled as too much. You were told to calm down, shrink down, shut down. But the storm never lied. It knew when the sky was wrong. You are not the danger. You are the weather change.
The Ghost
You disappeared to stay alive.
You learned invisibility young. You mastered silence, absence, shape-shifting. They forgot you were there. Sometimes you did, too. But your vanishing was power. And now, you’re choosing when and how to appear
The Root
You never left, even when it hurt.
You stayed. For them. For tradition. For hope. You stitched yourself into the family myth and bore its weight. But you’ve grown underground, quietly massive. You’re not stuck—you’re anchored. And ready to rise.
The Oracle
You knew before you were supposed to.
You felt the shift before it showed. Knew what people meant beneath what they said. They mocked you, ignored you, feared you. But your knowing is clean. Your insight is intact. And your time has come.
The Weaver
You tried to make it whole.
You gathered broken parts. Smoothed tension. Translated pain. You spun stories to keep people close, to keep things gentle. But it’s not your job to bind what resists healing. You can weave for yourself now.