How long have you been holding your breath, waiting for them to come around? Waiting for the message, the call, the words that would make it right. I’m sorry. Two words that could have healed so much — but they never came. Here’s the hardest truth: they might never come. Not because your pain didn’t …
Ever wonder why some people can sit in silence, untouched — and you, you feel the weight of it pressing on your chest? You sense the shift before a word is spoken. You pick up the pause, the sigh, the faint change in someone’s face — and something inside you starts scanning: What did I …
Empathy is supposed to be a light—something that softens the hard edges of the world. It’s what people praise—what crowns you ‘good.’ But even light can burn. What if it can be something else—something sharper? What if empathy, in the wrong hands, cuts deeper than hate ever could? Dark empathy isn’t loud. It doesn’t scream. …
To be human is to ache and to long. It is to carry contradictions: strength and softness, faith and doubt, brilliance and brokenness — sometimes all at once. It’s waking up hopeful, and by evening, questioning everything. It’s loving people who may never love us the same way back. It’s fighting for dreams we sometimes …
There’s a strange kind of exhaustion that doesn’t show on your face. It’s not loud. It doesn’t cry in public. It just sits there — quietly — in your chest. Heavy. Like you’re breathing through wet cotton. You’re not falling apart exactly. But you’re not okay either. You’re just… still standing. Barely. Sometimes, that’s what …
There’s this thing that happens. When someone hurts you—really hurts you— it’s not always sadness that shows up first. Sometimes, it’s fire. This unbearable urge to lash out. To hurt them the way they hurt you. To shake something. Break something. Say that one thing that will land like a slap. And in that moment, …
It’s not loud. Not dramatic. It’s just that moment when you’re saying something and they look away. Or change the subject. Or act like you’re taking too long. And you notice. Even if you pretend not to. You feel yourself pull back. You don’t mean to. It just happens. A small part of you shuts …
There are moments that play back in the mind like a scene someone else acted out. A look. A comment. A tone. A decision that, at the time, felt small—but now feels sharp and out of place. Almost like it came from someone else entirely. But it didn’t. It came from a tired version of …
Sometimes people say they’re “keeping the peace” when really, they’re just hiding the war. They go quiet. They swallow their words. They build walls and call it love. But silence isn’t always healing. Sometimes it’s just a slow erosion. A slow burning. A slow goodbye. We tell ourselves that if we don’t talk about it, …
Guilt doesn’t scream. It just sits there. Heavy. Quiet. Always there. Right in your chest. Right in the back of your mind. Like maybe if you’d said something earlier. Maybe if you’d tried harder. Maybe if you were… better. You keep going over everything. Looking for the moment it slipped. Looking for what you missed. …