I Dare You

Sitting out here in my shed…
Just me, the quiet, and a stack of old memories.
Faces frozen in time—laughing, living, shining with something I can’t seem to touch anymore.
And then there’s her.
The one in the photos.
Me, but not.
A stranger with my smile.

There’s this girl I knew once —
Wild eyes, half-smile, like she knew secrets the world hadn’t caught up to yet.
She had dreams. Fire in her eyes.
She wasn’t afraid to take up space.
She wasn’t afraid to feel.

I stare at her now and wonder who the hell she thinks she is.
Looking at me like that.
Like I’m the one who disappeared.
Like I traded in her fire for quiet and called it maturity.
Like I folded myself up into something palatable and forgot how to unfold.

But the thing is—I didn’t forget her.
Not really.
She’s been pacing inside me for years.
Tapping the walls, leaving dents.
Waiting for me to stop pretending I don’t miss her.

And I do.
I miss her like hell.

I miss her messy. Loud. Unapologetic.
I miss how she laughed with her whole damn chest.
How she let people leave if they couldn’t handle her shine.
How she didn’t beg to be chosen—she just was.

And maybe I’ve played small for so long,
I thought it was safety.
But it’s not.
It’s a cage.
And I built it.

So here’s the thing.
If you’re still in there—
if you’re watching me now,
arms crossed and unimpressed,
I dare you.

Come back.
Come back swinging.
Come back with your fire and your fury and your laugh that cracks the air open.
Come back like you never left.
Like you own this body, this life, this voice.
Because you do.

I’m done pretending you were too much.
You were exactly right.
And I’m ready to make room for you again.
Even if I have to burn everything down to let you in.

So yeah.
I dare you.