The Argument of Fire and Stone

I woke from a dream mid-sentence,

heart pounding, breath uneven..

the kind of argument that doesn’t fade

when the room goes quiet.

We were standing face to face,

words sharp, heavy with pride.

They said I was too much,

too sure of myself,

as if being capable was a crime.

I laughed once... the kind that burns.

Said being a girl boss isn’t vanity, it’s grit.

It’s getting up when the odds say stay down.

It’s learning to push through silence

and still show up clean, ready, and focused.

But they wanted a flaw to hold onto.

Something to level the ground

because strength unsettled them.

It wasn’t my hearing,

or the uneven roads I’ve had to walk.

It was that I didn’t wait for permission to move.

They’d been talking

to friends, to whoever would listen

about how I don’t need anyone.

That’s the lie people tell

when they can’t stand beside you.

I told them, maybe that’s the truth of it.

Maybe that’s why we’re not built for each other.

Because I learned to stand on my own two feet,

and they needed someone still learning how.

The air was thick with it..

that kind of tension that hums in your ribs.

I could feel every word like gravel in my chest,

but I didn’t bend.

I said what I meant:

my independence isn’t a threat,

it’s a survival tactic turned into skill.

And if that scares someone,

then they were never meant to understand me.

When I woke,

the silence was clean..

not peaceful, but real.

Sometimes dreams don’t comfort.

They remind you who you are

when someone tries to argue it out of you.