muscular men confidence isn’t loud — it’s quiet luxury.
he doesn’t speak, his delts already filed the paperwork.
walks in and the room’s collective blood pressure drops 20 points.
one tiny smirk and i’m folding faster than a 2012 iphone screen protector.
he knows he’s that girl without ever saying it — the traps sent the memo, the forearms cosigned.
i want that energy bottled and sold on the black market.
i want to walk into rooms and make people whisper
“oh that’s the one who survived everything and came back shredded.”
currently manifesting the day someone sees me and their brain does the windows error sound.
the final evolution is loading… do not disturb.
