A night out, two rooms, and a familiar feeling of being unseen. This post explores desire, self-worth, and the quiet power of becoming when you don’t belong where you’re standing.

Somewhere between who I was and who I’m becoming, I caught myself whispering a question that echoed louder than I expected: Is this anything? This post is a slow, sensual unraveling of belonging, purpose, and the journey of returning to yourself.

I recently moved into this gorgeous apartment with my lover, white walls that feel like a blank page, and a balcony I’m so excited to adorn with plants. A place where I can finally start anew. And yet, between the excitement and the curated aesthetic, a quieter voice whispered, 'Can I actually do this?' I couldn't help but wonder, do new beginnings ever truly arrive without a whisper of doubt, a shadow of the past?

The world outside my balcony doesn’t stop moving, cars rushing, palms swaying, the sky shifting from light to dark. But in the middle of it all, I’m learning to stay soft. Not fragile, not weak, but soft in the way water is soft, able to bend, flow, and still carve its own path. Being a “soft girl” simply becoming isn’t about pretending the chaos isn’t there. It’s about choosing to anchor myself in stillness, painting my own quiet moments, and reminding myself that softness is a strength and I’m still a ray of fucking sunshine.

Somewhere between who I was and who I’m becoming, I took a smoke break on a bridge, an exhale wrapped in clarity from the inside out. In that moment, a Shy Rockstar sparked. Step onto the balcony, a soft sanctuary for stories, sensuality, slow living, and Black feminine brilliance. Come inside. Bring your heart. Stay for the becoming