Simple.
Complex.
They say.
Honestly, who am I, really?
A dreamer.
A bibliophile.
An introvert.
I'd say.
But that feels like an unfinished sentence, like leaving a blank page in the middle of a thrilling novel. It’s not enough.
Because I love passionately.
I hate stubbornly (mostly when the Wi-Fi buffers).
I give generously—sometimes too much.
I take grudgingly—blame my awkward guilt reflex.
I’m just human, after all.
But who is Shee?
A believer—though my faith stumbles like a toddler learning to walk.
A life enthusiast—except before coffee.
A survivor, because life throws punches.
A warrior, because I throw punches back.
A princess, because I know my worth.
And a queen too—because, well, I’m extra like that.
Lol.
I’m light on my feet (and my plate—portion control is a myth).
Petite, though my personality walks in six-inch heels.
I find pride in my mane—messy or styled—and the glow of my melanin.
The glory of an African queen, if I do say so myself.
Oops. My Spanish side slipped out.
A loba.
A mujer grande.
But all these words, these labels, still feel like whispers of the whole.
Shee is me—simple, complex, and unapologetically figuring it out, one day at a time.
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