Entries 17

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You move through life with the weight of the world resting on your shoulders, a quiet, constant pressure that never fully lifts, yet never fully breaks you. Each step forward is an act of defia...

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I tell myself it is smalla flicker, a passing shadowsomething that will loosen its gripif I refuse to name it but my body speaks in heavier truthsin quiet aches that linger too longin the way ...

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Sometimes I wish I could just sit across from the girl in the mirror and tell her to be brave. Not in some big, dramatic way; but in the small, quiet moments where it matters most. When no o...

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There’s a moment, quiet, but powerful, when something stirs deep within you. Maybe it’s a word, a song, a glance at someone doing what they love. And suddenly, you feel it: the pull to rise. T...

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I carried it quietly, like something hidden just beneath the surface, an unnamed weight I wasn’t ready to face out loud. There was a moment when everything shifted, subtly, almost imperceptibly...

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I learned how to carry weight quietly, how to make pain look like routine, how to nod at the world as if nothing inside me was breaking. There were nights I reached outward, not with hands but ...

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I hate the way I’ve been made to feel like the things I love most about myself are somehow wrong; the softness that spills from my voice, the way my joy stretches too wide or I laugh too loud, ...

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There are moments that divide a life into before and after, and this was one of them. It wasn’t just what happened, it was who it came from. Someone familiar. Someone I had let my guard down ar...

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I miss connection more than I ever thought I could. Not just the small talk or the convenience of company; but the real, soul-deep kind. The quiet understanding. The laughter that comes too ea...

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I used to know the shape of myself; the edges smooth, the corners sharp, a body outlined in certainty. But time is a slow, relentless tide, carving me into something unrecognizable, a figure...

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Ashes settle where dreams once stood, fractured bones of what could have been. Time does not mend; it only mocks, whispering of things undone. Roots refuse the barren ground, stones sink b...

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Their words fell, drop by drop, like a slow, seeping poison, sinking into the spaces between trust and doubt. I drank them all. Not because I was thirsty, but because I wanted to believe tha...

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I used to believe in love. Not just in the way people talk about it, but in the way the sun rises— certain, steady, undeniable. I thought love was soft hands, late-night whispers, the feeli...

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I’ve wasted years on quitters; ghosts wrapped in flesh, promises frayed, whispers of commitment turned to echoes, vanishing like breath on a cold glass pane. They talk of dreams with borrowe...

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Sometimes, something clicks, a moment of clarity or a feeling that wakes you up inside. It might come from seeing someone else thrive, hearing the right words at the right time, or just quietl...

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I've traced your smoke signals through countless midnights, watching them spiral into nothingness like the memories we pretend to forget. Each time you appear in that alley, I materialize too;...

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Grief is a weight that does not settle. It presses into the chest, pools behind the eyes, makes every breath feel like an unearned privilege. There is no silence anymore, only the echo of wh...

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