I was not born to lead. Not because I lack strength — but because I was raised in silence. Told to follow. Told to obey. Told that good girls keep their heads low and their mouths closed. I didn’t grow up choosing paths — I walked the lines others drew for me. Straight. Neat. Never stray. Never question. Never dream too loud. They made me into a law-doll. Clothed in obedience. Wired to nod. Programmed to please. But now — now they point to the stage. “Lead,” they say. “Be bold,” they whisper. “Why aren’t you like them?” Them. The ones with fire in their eyes. The rebels. The rule-breakers. The ones who painted skies with chaos and somehow made it look like art. And I? I was stitched with rules. Glued together with approval. I was never taught to break chains. Only to polish them. So here I stand, trembling — not because I am weak. But because I am unmaking myself. Piece by piece, thread by thread, law by law — Until one day, there will be nothing left but me. Not a doll. Not a puppet. Not a perfect girl. Just me. And that will be enough.