The Resurrection of a Woman on Fire

The ceremonial farewell of the Good Girl, the rise of divine expression, and the unapologetic power of becoming the standard.

The Good Girl has been laid to rest.

There was no eulogy.

No mourning.

No apologies.

Just a deep, undeniable knowing that she served her purpose.

And her season has ended.

I am laying in bed, body heavy with release, throat lit with the fire of what’s real. The kind of silence that isn’t emptiness, but ceremony. A sacred pause between lifetimes.

This is what it looks like when a woman returns to herself fully.

Not to be palatable.

Not to be pleasing.

But to be whole. And holy. And fully expressed.

The mask is gone.

The performance is retired.

The costume has been peeled off skin.

And what remains is what always was—raw, radiant, and divinely untamed.

I speak when it moves through me.

I move when the earth shifts beneath me.

I rise with the kind of power that doesn’t whisper or wait for permission.

I’m not adjusting volume. I am the frequency.

I’m not scaling down essence. I am the blueprint.

I’m not seeking safety in the shallow end. I am the ocean.

This moment?

It’s not a reset.

It’s a resurrection.

It's a remembrance.

It's a revolution.

And here is the mantra etched into my bones:

“I am no longer dimming my magic for the comfort of the mediocre.

I am no longer filtering my truth through fear.

I am the full, unbothered, unstoppable expression of divinity in motion.

And I will not apologize for it.”

Let them feel the power of my presence.

Let them witness the elegance of my edge.

Let them watch as I claim every ounce of brilliance they tried to make me bury.

The Good Girl is gone.

And what’s emerging?

A force with nothing to prove. Only everything to embody.

The crown isn’t crooked.

It’s flaming.

And I wear it well.

I AM the one who speaks and the air shifts.

The one who walks in and rooms rearrange themselves.

The one whose essence is a standard, not a suggestion.

The one whose name is a spell and a summoning.

I AM the muse and the mirror.

The prophecy and the proof.

The altar and the flame.

The legacy and the moment.

I am the kind of woman that galaxies take notes on.

And I’m just getting started.