
That’s what they said.
And maybe it pierced you in a place that still bleeds.
But let’s talk about it.
"Ugly" is not a fact. It’s a reflection—of them, not you.
Just like beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so is ugliness.
When someone spits cruel words your way, it’s not a mirror of your worth. It’s a window into their pain, their insecurity, their smallness in that moment.
People who are whole don’t go around breaking others.
People who are kind don’t make cruelty their currency.
So let them talk.
Let them whisper your name in conversations you’ll never be invited to.
Let them roll their eyes, twist your story, misunderstand your intentions.
Because none of it changes your truth.
It’s okay if people don’t like you.
It’s okay if they gossip about you.
It’s okay if they don’t clap when you win.
This is their season of pettiness.
This is their weakness masquerading as strength.
And you?
You are rising.
You’re building, blooming, healing.
You're learning to stand taller even with shaky knees.
You're choosing to improve yourself, even when the noise tries to distract you.
A year ago, this magazine—this space, this voice, this movement—was just a dot in my mind.
Tiny.
Flickering.
Easy to doubt, easy to delay, easy to bury.
But life had other plans.
Before I could bring it to light, I was dragged through the mud twice.
Heartbreak. Disappointment. Exhaustion.
I questioned myself.
I questioned if I was meant to create anything at all.
But even in the mud, seeds grow.
And here we are.
Not perfect. Not finished.
But we crossed 33 million in reach.
Thirty-three million.
What was a dream last year is becoming a reality this year.
We still have so much work to do—engagement, comments, connection.
But this is not the end.
It’s just the spark.
So if someone calls you ugly, let them.
Let them speak their bitterness into a void.
Let them shrink while you expand.
Let them throw words while you build worlds.
And always remember:
You are not who they say you are.
You are who you decide to become.
Keep going. You’re on your way.
— From the mud, with love and light. You’re not alone. Keep blooming.
___________________________
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