The Map of My Body

Dear Delyara, For a long time, my body didn't feel like a home; it felt like a crime scene. I looked at my reflection and only saw the places where I had been hurt, the parts of me that felt "taken." I lived as a guest in my own skin, always ready to run. Tonight, I sat in the silence of Delyara and drew a new map. I wrote about the strength of my legs that carried me away, the power of my voice that finally said "no," and the resilience of a heart that kept beating even when it wanted to stop. I am reclaiming every inch of this territory. I am the only one who holds the keys to this house now. I am leaving the "victim" narrative in the inkwell. I am the survivor, the architect, and the queen of my own life.