Growing up with a disability meant that I had to learn who I was much earlier than most people. From a young age, I realised I didn’t have the luxury of just blending into the background. I had challenges that made me stand out, routines that others didn’t understand, and limits that forced me to grow up quicker. But the biggest lesson I learned was this: if I didn’t choose who I wanted to be, the world would choose for me. And that was something I refused to let happen. I swore to myself that no matter what obstacles I faced, I would never become someone who drifted through life without a sense of identity or self-respect.
I saw people around me changing themselves just to fit into whatever group made them feel accepted. But I couldn’t do that. While everyone my age clung to the same trends, I gravitated toward music that didn’t match the crowd. Everyone else listened to whatever was popular—chart-toppers, mainstream sounds—while I was drawn to something deeper, something that resonated with how my mind worked. It didn’t matter if nobody else liked it. It didn’t matter if people questioned it. That music became part of my identity, a way of saying, “I don’t need your approval to be myself.”
And then, as I got older, I watched my mates start doing what so many people do. Weekends became about going out drinking, chasing the same social routine over and over. There was this unspoken expectation that if you were part of the group, that’s what you did. But even then, I never felt the urge to join them. Not once. At 29 years old, I still haven’t followed the crowd into drinking—not because I’m trying to be better than anyone, but because I don’t believe in doing something just because everyone else is doing it. I’ve been around that environment enough times to know it’s not for me, and I’ve always trusted my own judgement over peer pressure.
Living life this way has taught me something powerful: the world is full of people who abandon themselves just to fit into places they were never meant to be. They shrink who they are to gain acceptance. They become a quieter, dimmer version of themselves so others feel comfortable. But that’s not living—that’s sacrificing. And once you start sacrificing who you are for approval, you slowly become the person you once promised you’d never be.
People say “leaders aren’t afraid to walk alone,” and I’ve found that to be true in the realest sense. Walking alone isn’t glamorous. It’s not always bold or loud. Sometimes it feels lonely. Sometimes it feels like you’re moving through life on a completely different wavelength than everyone else. But it also gives you something priceless: clarity. When you’re not trying to impress or copy anyone, you start hearing your own thoughts more clearly. You make decisions based on what’s right for you—not what’s expected of you. That’s where confidence comes from. Not from acceptance, but from authenticity.
Followers will always stay in the shadows. Not because they’re lesser than others, but because they are afraid of stepping into the light where people can see them for who they really are. They rely on the crowd to validate their choices. They need someone else to give them direction. And as long as they live like that, they’ll never truly know what they’re capable of.
I refuse to live that way—and I always have. My disability may have shaped parts of my journey, but it didn’t define my identity. If anything, it made me stronger, more stubborn, and more determined to choose my own path. I had to fight harder to be independent, to trust myself, and to hold onto the person I wanted to become. And that fight taught me discipline. It taught me that the only person I ever need to impress is the one staring back at me in the mirror.
So here’s the heart of this message, written with honesty and experience:
Never become the person you swore never to be.
Never lose yourself just to blend in.
Never quiet your voice just because others are louder.
Never follow a crowd that leads you away from your values.
Stay true to your own path—even if you walk it alone.
Because the people who walk alone are often the ones who discover who they truly are.
And they become the leaders others eventually look up to.
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