The only way to itis through it. Not around it.Not over it.Not pretending it never mattered. Through it. Through the replaying memoriesthat show up uninvited at 2 am.Through checking your phoneknowing nothing new is there.Through grieving the version of thingsyou thought would survive. Because some endings don’t arrive loudly.Some fade in slow motionwhile you keep…

I remember when talking to Godfelt like breathing. Like I didn’t have to force the words outor wonder if Heaven heard me. Back then,I would ask Him questionslike a daughter tugging on her Father’s sleeve,and somehow…the answers would meet me the next day. Not always loud.Not always dramatic.But clear enoughthat my spirit would sit still…

Some days I wish I cared less. Not because I don’t love hard and intensebut because feeling everything this hardstarts to feel like carrying water in my hands. No matter how gently I hold it,something still slips through me. I’m tired of trying to make peacewith things that quietly hurt me. The small things.The unspoken…

My mother is my best friend. Not just because she gave me life but because somehow, life gave me her twice. Two Aquariuses. Fourteen days apart. Years reversed like God copied and pasted a soul into two different timelines. We laugh the same. Feel too much the same. Go quiet when the world gets heavy…

Some people think love is just butterflies. I think love is grief with a heartbeat. It’s carrying somebody inside of you so deep that their storms start raining in your chest too. You learn the weight of their silence. The difference between their tired sigh and their “I’m trying not to fall apart” sigh. You…

Sometimes I really sit and wonder… do you love meor do you love how I love you? Because those are two different things. Do you love the woman in front of you,or the fact I keep showing upeven after disappointment?Even after crying in bathrooms,even after feeling unwanted,unseen,too emotional,too much,not enough all in the same week.…

I used to think poems had rules. Thought every line had to rhyme,every ending had to kiss the next sentence perfectly.Like pain only countedif it sounded pretty enough to repeat. So I would sit there,searching for synonyms,forcing words together that didn’t even belong to mejust so the poem sounded complete. I cared more about matching…

Nobody talks abouthow women become soft out of fear. Not weak.Not desperate.Not stupid. Just emotionally attached enoughto start shrinking themselvesto keep love from leaving. That’s the part they never teach us. How a woman can walk into a conversation strong,sure of herself,ready to stand on what hurt her… until the possibility of losing the person…

Last Mother’s Day, I just knew by this year I would be further. Further mentally.Further financially.Further emotionally.Just… further in life. I thought by now I would feel lighter.More healed.More secure.More sure of myself as a mother, as a woman, as somebody carrying this much weight every single day. Instead, Mother’s Day got here and all…

The day he hit me didn’t start with anger. It started like any other day quiet tension dressed up as normal, words walking on eggshells, me shrinking just enough to keep the peace alive. I remember the room. How still it felt right before everything broke. And when it happened it wasn’t just my skin…