Last night, I performed my poetry for the first time. I’ve actually been writing for over five years, but my first true poem was about Cheerios (I’m easily inspired; don’t judge). Still, if you would’ve told me that I’d end up on stage, not singing with my a cappella group, not receiving an award, but reciting my poetry? I would’ve laughed in your face. For at least five years, that’s exactly what I did. I’d push back at every nudge towards a platform, nervous and nauseous at the thought of feeling so exposed. But growth is a never-ending journey, and last night, a new bud bloomed on the tree of my life.