Elegy for the Dynamic Diva

For the version of me who once blazed like fire

You were a force.

Bright, untamed, always in motion.

You knew how to turn heads, light up rooms,

drown silence with wit and charm

because silence had never been kind to you.

You kept me alive.

In the chaos of childhood,

in the wreckage of addiction,

in every love too sharp or too fast—you danced through the flames with a laugh

louder than fear

and a heart hungry for more.

You made pain look like power.

You spun grief into gold,

shattered expectations with heels on,

and wore masks that made people clap

even when your soul was bleeding underneath.

I see you now.

Not as a mistake or a ghost—but as a survivor.

A woman who did what she had to do

to stay seen, to stay safe, to stay sane.

But I don’t need you to perform anymore.

I don’t need the spotlight,

or the chaos it once demanded.

Now I crave stillness,

honest connection,

the kind of laughter that doesn't cost me anything.

So rest, radiant one.

You were never too much—you were just too brave

for a world that didn’t know how to hold you.

And now, I hold you.

With tenderness.

With gratitude.

With peace.

I’ll carry your fire in my chest—but I’ll warm my life with gentler flames now.

The kind that last.

The kind that heal.

The kind that whisper instead of roar.

Amen.