purple reign

Title: Purple Reign: Coming Home to the Quiet Throne I used to think power meant velocity — crossing borders, collecting cities, outrunning stillness like it was death. I was wrong. Power is this: sitting in a village house on a winter Saturday, strong beer in hand, purple blanket over my knees, knowing exactly who I am without needing to prove it to anyone. Pink was the awakening — soft, playful, a little embarrassing, and exactly what I needed. But pink started to feel like a costume. Too sweet, too fragile. Purple is the truth underneath: depth, mystery, the color of bruises that heal into wisdom. My people — you scattered across screens and time zones, the ones who read these words when the world feels too loud — you need me to show up as this version. Not the eternal traveler, not the apologetic soft girl, but the woman who’s done running and started ruling her own small, luminous kingdom. And I need you. Your comments, your quiet nods, your “me too” in the dark. We remind each other that becoming doesn’t have to be loud. Sometimes it’s just a strong pour, a blank page, and the courage to say: Here I am. Take me as I am now.