Listen to the article.

There’s a version of you the world hasn’t met yet. Or maybe… it has, but a long time ago. Before the noise, before the pressure to “be someone.” Before, expectations of who you should be were foisted on you like a bad-fitting suit.
I was blessed. From early on, I knew I wanted to write stories that bent reality and stretched my imagination. I didn’t always have the words for it, and I didn’t always have the resources, but I had the feeling. That pulse. That inner nudge. The sense that I was here to do something different. Something not yet written. And through everything, I’ve carried it with me. Tarnished but still in one piece.

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I’ve seen that look on people’s faces. In the eyes of friends who once had a fire for something and now just manage through Monday mornings. In the mirror, during moments, I questioned whether the stories I tell still matter in a world spinning off its axis.
But the stories do matter.
So do yours.

That forgotten self—before the expectations, before the edits—it’s still in there. Waiting. Not to take over your life. Not to burn it all down. Just to remind you of who you were before you traded your joy for someone else’s version of success.
It’s not about hating the masks we wear. We all have to navigate systems, roles, and survival. As a black man, I understand that. I live it. But what I’m saying is: if you don’t check in with your real self regularly, the mask becomes your face. And then you start thinking that’s all you ever were.
But you’re more, Gentle Readers.

Maybe you love to draw. Perhaps you used to dance without worrying about who was watching. Maybe you told stories that made people lean in. Maybe your real voice has gone quiet, but it’s not gone forever.
You can still return.

That return doesn’t require a breakdown or a major life change. It just asks for honesty. With yourself. With your spirit. It asks you to make room again for the questions buried under your calendar. Questions like, “What do I love?” or “What do I need to stop pretending I don’t want?”
You don’t need to be loud about it. You don’t need to tell anyone. But the moment you pause long enough to listen to your frequency, your life starts shifting. Subtly. Radically.

Because your soul doesn’t shout. It whispers.
And if you’re always tuned into the noise of the world—social feeds, deadlines, shoulds—you’ll miss it.
But if you stop. Breathe. Walk. Write. Pay attention to what brings you alive again… you’ll remember.
Trust mi!

You’ll remember who you were before the world told you who to be.
And that? That quiet remembering? That’s the spark that reanimates everything.
It won’t always feel like a revolution. Sometimes, it’s just a deep breath that feels real for the first time in a long time. Sometimes, it’s changing the way you spend your mornings. Sometimes, it’s writing that first page.
But it’s always a return.

To the truest, bravest version of you.
That’s how transformation begins.
Not with noise.
But with remembering who you really are.

Peace, love and power.

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By a Black Speculative Fiction Author, Living, Not Just Dreaming