My strength is not armor. It's the scars I carry under my clothes and in my heart. It's the tears I shed into my pillow at night when it seemed like I was alone in this world. It's the moments when I wanted to give up, but I got up and took a step. Small. Unsure. But a step forward.
Being strong doesn't mean not being afraid. Being strong means moving forward despite your fear. Acknowledging your pain, but not letting it stop you. I'm not a heroine, not an ideal. I'm a woman who knows her own worth. And that's why I keep going. For myself. For myself.
So no, I'm not strong in the traditional sense. I'm alive. Real. And every day is a choice not to give up. And maybe that's where my true strength lies.