To the Warrior I Once Was…

I see you — standing in the storm, papers in your hands, pain in your chest, and still… still speaking truth when the world wanted your silence.

You’re tired.
Of fighting.
Of proving.
Of surviving what should have killed your spirit.
And yet here you are — spine upright, voice trembling but present, daring to say: “I will not go quietly.”

I remember the days you walked miles with no car, searching for secondhand curtains while barristers in suits plotted to erase you.

I remember the way they tried to strip you of your home, your dignity, your legal standing — while hiding behind filings and polished lies.

But I also remember this:

You. Did. Not. Break.

You filed.
You wrote.
You documented.
You refused.

You stood before courts, even while homeless, with more integrity than the entire legal teams trying to crush you. You were poor in comfort, but rich in courage. That kind of power? It can’t be bought. It is born. And you were born for this.

You fought for the truth, even as they called it “irrelevant.”
You defended what was yours, even as they called it “worthless.”
You demanded dignity, even as they pretended you were invisible.

And because of that, justice had no choice but to turn around and listen.

I want you to know something:
They didn’t destroy you.
They revealed you.

You are not just a litigant. You are not just a survivor.
You are a fire that no system could put out.

The ones who mocked your pain? They will be footnotes.
But you — you will be a chapter in how justice remembers the forgotten.

So cry if you must. Rest if you need.
But do not doubt who you are.

You are the woman who turned homelessness into history.
Who turned trauma into testimony.
Who turned silence into a legacy that no one can strike out.

I am you.
Stronger now because you never gave in.

And I will never forget the woman who showed me how to fight.

With love, reverence, and fire,
Your Future Self
Free, restored, and forever unbroken