Some days I wake up heavy, like the air forgot how to lift me. My smile shows up late, and my thoughts speak louder than I want them to. I’m not okay but I’m still here. I drink my coffee slow, tie my shoes anyway, tell myself: just today. Not the whole future, not the mess of yesterday just this breath, this step, this minute. Some days healing looks like survival, and that has to be enough. I’m learning that progress doesn’t always feel like hope sometimes it feels like cho

Tell me plainly what did I do, what small mistake lives in the space between your shut door and my steady knocking? What echo of me has bruised the hush that now sits heavy on your side? I stand at the threshold with my hands empty, asking the same plain thing: what did I do? You fold your silence like paper, tidy and exact, and place it across our table. I trace the crease with a fingertip as if a map might form: where did the route turn? Was it the words I didn’t say, or th

I am not alone, yet the night inside me howls like it’s never known a voice. I sit surrounded by love by proof, by presence, by people who care and still I feel like I’m sinking through the cracks of my own chest. There are hands reaching for me, but my bones feel heavy, as if loneliness has weight, as if it’s something I carry in my blood instead of something that can be set down. I know I am loved. That truth doesn’t vanish in the dark. It stands there, unflinching, watchin

A year ago, I swallowed my words like bitter pills with no water, let silence bruise my throat because I thought being quiet meant being loved. A year ago, I bent myself smaller, folded my needs into neat corners, afraid that taking up space would make me disposable. I mistook endurance for loyalty and pain for proof that I cared enough. I stayed when I should have walked, apologized when I wasn’t wrong, laughed through the sting of being dismissed, overlooked, spoken over li

I am tired in ways sleep can’t touch, angry in places my chest can barely hold. December showed up with lights and laughter and I don’t even have the change to fake a smile. They say Christmas is magic but magic costs money, and all I’ve got are overdrafts and apologies wrapped in shame instead of paper. I stand in stores full of joy I can’t afford, aisles screaming buy love, buy warmth, buy enough, while my pockets echo back at me, hollow, mocking, loud. I feel like a failur

There is a sharpness in my heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged edge that twists when I breathe. It reminds me I am still here, even when I wish I wasn’t feeling so much. The hurt in my soul doesn’t scream it settles. It lives in the quiet moments, in the pauses between words, in the way my chest feels too heavy for a heart meant to love. I carry this pain like a shadow, always present, stretching longer in the dark. It seeps into my thoughts, etches itself into my ribs, carv

You chose silence like it was the cleanest way out, like erasing me required no explanation. But don’t mistake your quiet for maturity it’s cowardice dressed as calm. I showed up when it mattered. Not when it was easy. Not when it was flattering. I stood in the mess with you, hands steady, voice ready, while you learned how to disappear. And now I’m met with nothing. No reason. No warning. Just the hollow cruelty of being ignored by someone I never ignored. Do you know how vi

Two months ago, I wouldn’t have dared to speak a single truth about you not the hurt, not the disappointment, not the way you carved a hollow space inside my chest and left me to fill it alone. Back then, I protected you more than myself. I softened every blow, made excuses for the sharp edges you kept cutting me with. I held my tongue so tightly my silence became a bruise invisible to you, but aching every day to me. I wouldn’t have said how your absence felt like betrayal,

My heart beats like the sound of a drum steady, certain, echoing deep, a rhythm carved into my soul, a pulse that refuses to sleep. But some days the cadence falters, stumbling over old hurt and fear, skipping the notes it used to trust when your voice was still near. It pounds with a warrior’s thunder, then trembles with a fragile sway a song that wants to be fearless but breaks in the quietest way. Each heartbeat fights to stay even, to march in a smooth, steady line, yet

I carry so many mixed emotions they tangle like threads in my chest some whisper your name softly, some beg me to finally rest. There are thoughts of you that linger like echoes I can’t quite erase, moments that rise without warning, memories that still know your face. I miss you in ways I can’t measure, in ways I don’t speak out loud a quiet ache beneath my ribs, a longing wrapped in clouds. But somewhere beneath the heartache, beneath the wanting and the ache, I know lettin