For most of my life, I carried a story about myself that wasn’t kind. I was the “spoiled girl,” the one who had it easier than others, the one who didn’t quite measure up to the struggles that defined those around me. It wasn’t a name I gave myself—it was handed to me, woven into the way people spoke about me, the way my mother saw me, and the way I sometimes saw myself. 

But if I can rewrite the story others have told about me, maybe I can also rewrite the one I tell myself. Maybe I am not the “spoiled girl.” Maybe I am the one who stays, who endures, who finds ways to survive even when it’s hard. Maybe I am the one who still hopes for a little light, even on the heaviest days. 

And maybe I am more than just someone who survives—I am someone who grows. Someone who learns to carry hardship without letting it define her. Someone who builds resilience not from bitterness, but from the quiet, stubborn act of believing that things can change. That I can change. 

Right now, this belief still feels like a borrowed story, something I am repeating in the hopes that it will become true. But isn’t that how belief works? It is not instant. It is built, piece by piece, day by day. And maybe if I say it enough times, live it enough times, one day I will wake up and realize that the story I once thought was fake has quietly become real.

Yes, you too are welcome to create a borrowed story my dearest readers, a story that is not yet unfold in our life but we would like to have it. Believe into that story, create an art with this make belief story–writing, painting, playing guitar, whatever. I promise, One day the story will be ours.

Cheers,

Karin Sabrina.