Dear Cancer, You Are Just a Chapter

Dear Cancer,

You tried it.

You came in loud, messy, and ruthless—thinking you could scare me into silence, into surrender. You thought the diagnosis was the end of the story. Plot twist: I’m still here.

You messed with the wrong one.

You didn’t just pick a body—you picked a fighter. A lioness. A woman with grit in her veins and fire in her chest. You came to destroy, but all you did was expose a version of me that’s unshakable.

Yeah, you took things from me. My time. My energy. My hair. My sense of safety. But what you didn’t take—what you couldn’t take—was my spirit. My voice. My purpose. My power.

I walked through hell and made it look like a runway.

So let me be clear: You don’t own me. You don’t define me. I’m not just a survivor. I’m a system-shaker. A truth-teller. A warrior wrapped in scars and strength.

You’re just a chapter. I’m the whole damn book.

– Me