aqsafathima136
Is it truly so arduous to uphold a promise,
Or is it that we overestimate the constancy of our own will?
Why does existence feel so heavy-so relentlessly difficult-
Even when the world demands we wear ease as a mask?
And yet, reality remains unyielding,
A mirror that reflects change only when the soul dares to fracture.
In the pursuit of becoming a formidable architect of success-
A businesswoman forged by ambition and resilience-
What if, inadvertently, I dismantle the very essence of who I am?
What if, in chasing triumph,
I become a masterpiece of achievement,
But a stranger to my own name?
"She is Emily Roseanne Franz!" the world proclaimed-
The visionary businesswoman who redefined elegance,
Who turned runways into revolutions and red carpets into battlegrounds of boldness.
Her name echoed in headlines, etched in luxury,
A symbol of calculated brilliance and effortless control.
She built an empire from fabric and fire,
But no one noticed the cost hidden behind her stitched perfection.
But what now?
All of it-the fame, the power, the spotlight-
It feels hollow to her now, a monument built on forgotten pieces of herself.
It was never meant to be a waste.
But somewhere between boardrooms and camera flashes,
Between applause and ambition,
She lost something irreplaceable
Her identity.
Not the brand. Not the image.
But the raw, unfiltered truth of who she was before the world demanded perfection.
She became everything they said a successful woman should be-
But in doing so,
She buried the woman she was meant to become.