The Version of Me You’ll Never Meet.

There’s a version of me you’ll never meet.

Not because she’s gone but because she only comes out when it feels safe enough to breathe.

She’s softer. Not the composed kind of soft I let the world see, but the kind that unfolds in comfort where laughter flows without thinking, and my guard doesn’t have to stand watch.

She talks with ease. She loves without checking if it’s mutual first. She doesn’t shrink to make others comfortable. She just is.

But somewhere along the way, I learned to tuck her away.

Life has a quiet way of teaching you who can hold your softness without breaking it and who can’t.

So, I became careful. Not fake, not cold, just… selective.

Most people meet the balanced version of me. kind but measured, calm but cautious. Few ever get the unguarded one the version who speaks from her heart instead of her head.

It’s not sadness. It’s self-preservation.

I’ve learned that not everyone deserves access to the rawest parts of me, the unedited feelings, the unrehearsed words.

That version is my favorite, but also the one I protect the most.

I don't hide her out of fear... I protect her out of love.

Maybe one day, someone will meet her again.

Or maybe she’ll stay my quiet secret, the me that only exists in peace, in softness, in safety.

And if that’s all she ever is… that’s still enough.

— Abby Whispers Within 🌙