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HOPE THAT FLICKERS

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  May arrived quietly. Not with celebration, not with certainty but with heavy eyes, tired prayers, and the kind of silence that sits beside you even in crowded rooms. I think some months come to test the weight of our hearts. And May did exactly that. It stretched me in places I never spoke about. It showed me how exhausting it is to keep holding onto people, memories, dreams, and versions of life that no longer hold onto us. Some days felt unbearably long. Like standing at a closed door, knocking softly, hoping destiny would suddenly remember my name. I carried disappointment so gently that nobody noticed how much it was bruising me. I smiled through conversations while quietly grieving things I could not explain without trembling. But somewhere between the breaking and surviving, I began to understand something important: Not everything delayed is meant for destruction. Not everything lost is asking to be chased. And not every season of stillness means life has forgotten us. Som...
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AFTER THE STORM INSIDE ME

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  There is a version of me that existed before disappointment became familiar. A softer version. A louder dreamer. Someone who believed that good hearts are always met with good intentions. I miss her sometimes. Not because life destroyed her completely, but because survival changed the way she looks at everything now. These past months have taught me how quietly people leave. How promises expire. How loneliness can exist even in rooms full of love. And yet somehow, I am still here. Still waking up. Still trying. Still searching for light in places that once buried me in darkness. That must mean something. Maybe strength is not becoming fearless. Maybe it is continuing despite the fear. Continuing despite the delays, the heartbreak, the unanswered questions. There are days I still mourn the life I imagined for myself. The timing. The people. The version of happiness I thought would arrive sooner. But lately, I have stopped asking life, “Why me?” Instead, I ask, “What is this pain t...
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THE MONTH I STOPPED ARGUING WITH LIFE

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  May found me tired. Not the kind of tired sleep can fix, but the kind that settles quietly inside the heart after too many disappointments dressed as lessons. I entered this month carrying invisible wars. Smiling in public. Breaking in private. Pretending certain things no longer hurt simply because I had survived them before. But healing becomes difficult when you keep revisiting places within yourself that were never kind to you. So this month, I am learning silence. Not weakness. Not surrender. Just silence. The kind that no longer feels the need to explain pain to people who only understand it when it wears tears. I no longer want to force conversations, connections, or outcomes. Some things become lighter the moment we stop carrying them. And perhaps peace is not always found in receiving more. Perhaps sometimes it arrives when we finally accept what must be released. May does not feel magical yet. But it feels honest. And honestly, that is enough for me right now.
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BREATHE AGAIN

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    You came into my life like rain on unfinished roads  messy, heavy, and impossible to ignore. You uncovered emotions I had buried beneath busy days and forced smiles. You reminded me that some wounds do not heal because time passes, but because we finally stop reopening them. This month, I lost interest in forcing things. I stopped chasing explanations from people who had already changed. Stopped romanticizing places that only held memories and not peace. Stopped standing at emotional doorways waiting for someone to choose me fully. And strangely, the moment I loosened my grip on what was draining me, I could finally breathe again. April was not beautiful in the usual way. It did not arrive with miracles or loud victories. But somewhere inside the exhaustion, I found honesty. Honesty about what hurts me. About what keeps me stagnant. About how much of myself I have abandoned trying to save things that were already falling apart. So as the month ends, I am not asking li...
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ATOSSA V

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  There is a day that does not pass, it only circles back, soft-footed, unannounced. I have learned not to fight it. It arrives in small ways in the silence between breaths, in the way light rests on empty spaces as if it remembers what once belonged there. I still imagine you in outlines I cannot complete a voice just beyond sound, a presence I almost reach until the moment breaks like thin glass in my hands. Something in me shifted that day not loudly, not all at once but deep enough that even time could not smooth its edges. I have carried it since this quiet, unspoken weight, this tenderness that aches without asking permission. And though the world kept moving, I learned a different rhythm one where loss breathes beside me, not as an enemy, but as a shadow that knows my name. Some things are never buried. They simply become part of you woven into your pulse, hidden in your strength, resting in the spaces you no longer try to fill. A...
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ECHOES WITHOUT ANSWERS

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  Grief is not loud in my life. It does not scream or shatter glass. It sits in the space between my ribs, breathing softly, like it belongs there. I have learned to carry it gently, like a cup filled too close to the brim, careful not to spill what I no longer have the strength to clean up. There were words I folded into silence, stitched into the lining of my chest. They live there still; unspoken, unheard, unforgiven. Sometimes I wonder if they echo in another world, if somewhere you heard me and chose not to answer. I go on; not because I have healed, but because the world does not pause for broken things. And yet, in the quietest moments, I still turn; as if you might be there, as if grief might finally loosen its grip and let me breathe without remembering.
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AFTER THE DUST SETTLES

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  March will end quietly for me. Not with celebration, not with grand declarations about becoming someone new. Just the simple understanding that I am still here after everything. There were days when I felt smaller inside my own life — speaking less, explaining more, trying to fit my heart into places that were not made for it. I learned that healing is not a straight road. Some mornings I woke up and felt strong for no reason. Other mornings carried the old weight like it had never left. But I kept going anyway. I stopped trying to be the person everyone expected me to be. I allowed myself to be tired. To be unsure. To move slower than the world wanted. I am learning that growth does not always feel powerful. Sometimes it feels like letting go of noise you once thought was part of love. Now I sit with my life differently. Not rushing to fill silence. Not forcing happiness to arrive early. Just watching the dust settle after the long walki...
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LOST FOCUS

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  People said Kude was focused. He liked it that way. To him, focus meant silence around his decisions, silence around emotions he did not want to manage, and silence from people who expected more from him than he was willing to give. Kude believed feelings were inconvenient. Not feelings in general; just the ones that came from others when they became complicated. He dated women, but he did it like someone selecting useful arrangements for a life already planned. If a woman had money, he stayed close. If she was kind and emotionally available, he enjoyed the comfort without asking himself whether he was giving the same back. He liked being treated well. Like a king sitting quietly in a palace he never built. He expected respect, attention, and small sacrifices — the kind people make when they care about someone. But when a woman tried to express what she felt, Kude's expression changed. He would listen without really listening. Then he would say her feelings were st...
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