Fine on Arrival™
I didn’t stumble into power.
I landed in it.
Hard.
Like thunder cracking through
silence—
not everyone survives the descent.
They thought I needed saving.
Truth is, I was the storm.
I wasn’t born easy.
Came through fire, not feathers.
Pressure was my first language—
I learned to breathe before the
world gave me air.
Survival didn’t wait for a birth
plan.
It just showed up—and so did I.
I was Fine on Arrival.
Not because life was gentle,
but because I was built to survive
what didn’t try to be.
They don’t tell you this part.
How the ones with the softest
hearts often grow the sharpest
tongues.
How being broken doesn’t mean
you’re weak—
it means you felt everything and
stood back up anyway.
I’ve been betrayed and abandoned.
Watched loved ones pack up their
loyalty like it came with a return
receipt.
I’ve been left for dead—physically,
emotionally, spiritually—
and still resurrected with receipts.
Every scar?
A stamped visa from the hell I
walked through.
Every lesson?
A suitcase packed with truths I
had to carry alone.
They say healing takes time—
but time never showed up on time
for me.
So I healed in motion.
Bleeding in silence.
Smiling in spaces that never made
room for me.
But I made room.
With elbows.
With presence.
With words that bite back when
the world calls you too much,
too loud,
too honest.
Too alive.
I wasn’t shaped by ease.
I was shaped by absence.
By the silence after the phone call
that never came.
By the breath I held every time I
swallowed a scream.
By the apologies I never got
from people who sleep fine
anyway.
But still—
I’ve never been just surviving.
I’ve been building.
Crafting legacy from rubble.
Turning “you’re too much” into
maybe they’re not enough.
Turning “you’re hard to talk to”
into
I’m just not easy to manipulate.
I am not what happened to me.
I am what I made from it.
And that’s why this mic fits like
bone.
Why these words don’t ask
permission.
Why every syllable is a revolt.
A red-eye flight from silence to
truth.
No layovers. No apologies.
So if you’re here expecting soft
landings—
this ain’t that.
This is where turbulence meets
testimony.
Where shade is sacred.
Where pain gets published.
Where I remind the world,
with every breath and every brand
I build—
I didn’t just arrive.
I was Fine on Arrival.
