Lena Paul She Was Me [exclusive] -

She was me when I pretended I didn’t care. She was me when I cared too much. She was me when I smiled for a photo and thought, no one here knows me.

Yes. That.

Not in the literal sense, of course. Our lives don’t overlap on paper. But in the emotional memory of being perceived? In the exhaustion of performing softness while holding sharp thoughts? In the quiet rebellion of keeping one part of yourself untouched by the gaze of others? lena paul she was me

So here’s to the strangers who become our mirrors. Here’s to the women we see ourselves in, even if we’ll never meet them. Here’s to the truth that no matter how unique our pain feels, someone else has worn it like skin. She was me when I pretended I didn’t care

We project onto public figures all the time. We see our struggles in their tired eyes, our resilience in their comebacks. But this felt different. This felt like looking into a mirror that had been fogged up for years, finally clear. Our lives don’t overlap on paper