I died yesterday. Not in the way that turns breath to dust—but in the quiet undoing of all I once thought I was. The curtain fell on a version of me that had memorized her lines too rigidly, stumbled through scenes that no longer moved her, and bowed to an audience she didn’t choose. That life, stitched together by habit and fear, finally exhaled its last sigh.

And yet, I feel the hum of tomorrow already rising within me. A soft rustle in the wings. I will be reborn—not as someone new, but as someone true. The spotlight warms a different face now: mine, rewritten. I’ll stumble again, surely. Maybe even forget a few lines. But I’ll improvise with grace. I’ll laugh when I fall. I’ll cry when I must.

Because life—my life—is always a rehearsal. Not a test to pass, not a performance to perfect, but a space to play, to feel, to begin again.

So today, I stand in the hush before the overture. I hold my heart like a script, smudged and glorious, ready to be spoken anew.

Let the lights rise. Let the soul sing. Act I begins again. 🎭

©️ Beatriz Esmer