Clarity over blur

A poem about what I miss, what I’ve traded, and the person I’m becoming

It’s 11:32 p.m.
I’m walking home from a house party.
No drinks, no buzz—just streetlights and silence.

I didn’t drink.
I never do.
I don’t have time to feel shitty the next day.
Clarity matters more than temporary blur.

I watched the room glow—
music spilling through bodies,
laughter rising like smoke.
And for a moment,
I missed it.

I missed swaying.
I missed bouncing.
I missed dancing.
Sometimes I miss acting my own age.

I wore makeup tonight.
Mascara, gloss, a little shimmer on my cheekbones.
Not for anyone else—
but because I missed feeling pretty.
Not strong.
Not impressive.
Just pretty.

Sometimes I miss
the version of me who danced without thinking,
who didn’t measure mornings
by how hard she could train.

I miss the girl who got ready for fun,
not recovery.
Who wore lipstick
with no finish line in sight.
Who let the night carry her,
not the weight of tomorrow.

But I also love her—
the woman I’ve become.
The one who traded the afterglow of a buzz
for the deeper shine of becoming.
Who still sways,
but now to her own rhythm.

This life is no accident.
It’s a choice.
Again and again.
To trade easy for real.
To find freedom not in losing yourself,
but in choosing yourself—
even when no one else understands why.

P.S. If you’re new—hi !
I write about all the messy, beautiful parts of being human—the goals, the feelings, highs after an Ironman, and late-night lows. And yeah, sometimes I sneak in a poem or two, hehe.
Feel free to reply and tell me who you are, what you’ve been thinking about lately, or drop a writing prompt you want me to explore.
I’m really glad you’re here :)

*forehead kiss*