If you followed the red wax, you’re exactly where you should be.
There’s a chapter in every woman’s life that never gets written down.
Everyone knows it. Somehow everyone forgets.
It starts early with girls…
…who learn how to carry more than she is ever meant to. With responsibilities too heavy, expectations too loud, and dreams she keeps tucked inside her sleeve because the world around her prefers it.
She is the dependable one. The strong one. The girl who always figures it out, even when she is quietly breaking in places nobody notices.
And somewhere along the way without meaning to, she becomes a version of herself built from other people’s needs, fears, and definition of what good is supposed to be. A version she never consciously chose, yet lived years inside.
That half girl, half ghost—moves through chapters that don’t even feel like they belong to her.
She wonders why the life she is living feels like a role she has memorized rather than authored.
But even in the middle of all that noise, one quiet thought keeps forming in the back of her mind.
A thought she never says out loud: “What if I was meant to be more than this version of me?” Not the version shaped by duty or survival, nor the one inherited from other people’s expectations. The truth she never admits — sometimes not even to herself.
There is a version of her she keeps hidden that shows up only when nobody’s watching.
The one that lives on her Pinterest boards —saved, pinned, tucked away across apps with a quiet “maybe one day… or maybe in another life.”
A life she imagines, a girl she wishes she could be. But dismisses because it feels too far, too late, too much or too good to be true.
And yet… the thought never dies. What if the only thing she’s ever been missing to turn that secret version into her real life is direction not worthiness?
What if the truth behind every “that girl” moment she envies isn’t luck, or genetics, or money… but something no one ever bothered to teach her?
If that idea stings in the best way —if something in you just shifted, woke up, leaned in — you’re already closer than you think.
This isn’t one of those “follow-me-and-I’ll-fix-you” culty corners of the internet. But if you’re still here, still reading, still wondering if this page knows a little too much about you then maybe, just maybe, you were meant to click.
It’s not just content. It’s identity work disguised as transformation. A slow unpeeling of self-expression, done your way.
DO YOU DARE?
Here’s your next clue: Find the girl with the umbrella. She’s been holding the secret. Click it, read it.
If something shifted, follow the trail. If nothing does, ghost us. We won’t cry. (Much). This is how lost girls leave themselves notes before the becoming.
