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I exist between who I was and who I’m becoming. The space is confusing, fragile, and honest. I’ve outgrown certain dreams and people, yet their echoes remain. I’m learning that not everything needs closure some things just need acceptance. And in this slow becoming, I find a strange kind of peace..
There are nights when my soul feels louder than the world outside. I count regrets instead of stars and imagine conversations that never happened. I am made of questions, unfinished chapters, and quiet strength. Even when I feel lost, something inside me insists on moving forward. Maybe healing isn’t loud. Maybe it’s this staying, breathing, and believing again.
