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Where love, heartbreak, and healing live in words
yesterday morningfelt easy routineautomatic I got dressedwithout thinking keys in hand,one last glance in the mirror— and I paused because for the first time in a long time,I recognized her confident.Steady.at home in her own skin every day,a little closerto the woman I’m becoming ten hours later I was standingin front of the same mirror…
There was a girlbefore twenty-three. She laughed with her whole body.Trusted easily.Walked through the worldwithout calculating exits. She believed lovemeant safety. Believed her bodybelonged only to herself. I grieve her sometimes. Not because she was softer—but because she did not yet knowhow cruel the world could beto women who love openly. And then there was…
the thing about a picture is that it stays the same even whenthe people in itdon’t the smilesdon’t fade the handsdon’t let go nothing inside the frameknowsit’s already over and now all that’s left are small, still momentsof somethingthat once feltlike forever a dreamwe were livingwithout knowingit would end and I’ve learned memories are quietbut…
I thought lovewould always arrivewith conditions. That if someone touchedthe deepest parts of me,they would recoil eventually—or worse,stayand punish me gently for surviving. I had grown used to becoming smaller. Used to apologizingfor things that were never mine to carry. Used to being looked atlike a wound firstand a woman second. Until you… You recognized…
I used to think lovewas supposed to arrive loudly. Like fireworks.Like certainty.Like something undeniable enoughto erase every fear the moment it appeared. But real love—the kind that changes you—is quieter than that. It arrives slowly. In someone rememberinghow you take your coffeebefore you realize they’ve been paying attention. In the way your name sounds differentwhen…
I drove past your street today. Not by accident. I took your exit—let my body rememberwhat my mind was trying to forget. I got close enoughto feel it. Close enoughto know how easyit would beto turn left. But I didn’t. I turned right. And that—that felt like something. You crossed my mind yesterday. Your birthday.…
