MONOLOQUE
monoloque 4
No one knew I was sick.
Not really.
I was still showing up.
Still smiling. Still training. Still pretending my body hadn’t betrayed me.
The diagnosis came on a Tuesday—ordinary, almost cruelly so.
Stage two. Not the worst, not the best.
Just enough to shatter everything I thought I controlled.
I remember standing in front of the mirror,
the same body that once felt strong,
now felt like a stranger.
Every curve, every muscle, suddenly fragile.
Borrowed.
But here’s the thing about hitting ROQ bottom,
you stop performing strength and start becoming it.
The chemo took my hair, my eyelashes, my appetite.
But it couldn’t take my will.
It couldn’t take the quiet promise I made to myself:
I will come back to me.
And slowly, I did.
The first walk around the block felt like a marathon.
The first time I lifted 1kg felt like reclaiming a kingdom.
And when I put on my workout clothes again,
it wasn’t about how I looked –
it was about what I survived.
People say “you’re so strong.”
But strength wasn’t a choice.
It was a necessity.
Because life kept moving—and I refused to be left behind.
Now, every scar reminds me:
This body didn’t fail me.
It fought for me.
I’m not the same woman I was before cancer.
I’m something deeper.
Something unbreakable.
From ROQ bottom,
to ROQ solid.
Forever.
Every drop of sweat is a promise you made to yourself.
progress is never perfect, but it’s always powerful.
you weren’t made to quit.
you were made to ROQ.
– BE A ROQ STAR.