Dad,
Thank you—for my childhood,
For the safety I never saw, yet always felt.
Thank you for being my teacher through example,
For guiding me not just with words,
But with the quiet strength of your actions.
Thank you for the advice—
Even when I met it with resistance,
Blind to the wisdom time would later reveal.
Thank you for the pain you carried in silence,
For the exhaustion, the tears,
Hidden behind smiles and strength.
Thank you…
For that towel stained with blood from a nose you tried to hide—
A small, unforgettable symbol of all the battles you fought
Without ever letting us feel the weight.
Thank you for being our shield,
Even when your soul was weary.
Now,
Everything is different.
I stumble, I fall, and you’re not here to steady me.
But your voice echoes in my heart,
Your lessons live in my choices,
And your spirit lights my darkest hours.
Now, I face the world alone.
And though I try—each and every day—
This ache, this longing for you,
Is fiercer than any challenge life throws my way.
Sometimes I ask myself…
For how long will this hurt last?
And yet, I hold on—
To your memory,
To your strength,
To the promise I whisper quietly to myself:
Until we meet again.
Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 12:20 AM UTC
There are two ways to listen to the heart—
One, of flesh and blood,
The other, of soul and silence.
All our lives, we wrestle,
Trying to hear its beat untouched by feeling—
Yet always, emotions rise like tides,
Crashing through the stillness.
We are led by them,
Those wild, aching waves
That give both sense and none
To our very being.
It is the heart—
That quiet, burning center—
Which breathes all life into the vastness within.
May peace settle in every heart,
And may clarity flood each mind,
Like morning light through a shattered sky.
Stop the struggle against what calls us home.
Follow it—not with noise, but with reverence.
Follow it in silence.
For that is the only rhythm
We were ever meant
To dance on. 🎶
Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 2:22 AM UTC
It's about not losing the first chance to share a glance -
when something is there, even in silence, it speaks.
It's about showing up as your finest self, even in places where nothing is meant to shine.
It's about using the right words to feel steady, sure,
even if that certainty leaves no visible trace behind.
It's about me - and no one else.
I's about the fact that I do not let myself drift with the river's current, and I do not remain in waters that only stand still.
Because the difference between moving with moving waters, and staying in still ones,
is the space between the dry riverbed -
and me,
pouring water into the stream already alive,
offering sunlight to waters at rest.
May 29, 2025
May 29, 2025 at 12:06 PM UTC
“At the end of life, when the final breath escapes, everything we chased loses meaning.
A single breath takes a lifetime to release—yet still, I wonder:
how many breaths must be drawn and lost before we truly grasp the values that matter in this world?”
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 5:59 AM UTC
People do lose me like the candle.
Elegant, quiet, shaped to fit their mood—white, or sometimes colored to soothe or impress.
I am placed where they need the glow, where comfort or atmosphere is wanted.
I offer it without demand.
There is no darkness when I’m lit—not even when everything else fades.
But they forget that the shine has a cost.
That the flame, though constant, feeds on something finite.
They admire the light but ignore the burning.
They think presence means permanence.
Then one day, the light is gone.
Not with noise, not with warning—just no longer there.
And only then does the absence reveal what the glow never needed to prove.
Not everything that illuminates announces its worth.
Some things, by the time they’re missed,
have already become memory.
And memory, unlike flame, does not warm.
May 11, 2025
May 11, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
“There exists a place called Earth, where the battle for equality is far from over.”
Apr 13, 2025
Apr 13, 2025 at 11:24 AM UTC
If I had been a boy, maybe they would have liked me.
Maybe I would have been accepted—respected, even.
But I was born a girl.
And somehow, my blonde hair, my glowing skin, my warm smile,
and the kindness in my heart became reasons for ridicule.
They call it attention, but it feels like harassment.
They call it teasing, but it feels like abuse.
Sometimes, I wonder…
Was I born wrong?
Or is the world just wrong for making us feel this way?!
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 2:43 PM UTC
Life is undeniably beautiful—if not for certain people.
Those who lack substance yet pass judgment.
Those who wake only to disrupt, never to build.
Those unwilling to evolve yet resistant to wisdom.
The fanatics, prisoners of their own narrow minds.
When such individuals hold power, a better world remains a distant dream.
Mar 23, 2025
Mar 23, 2025 at 3:34 AM UTC
“ I don’t know if I will emerge stronger, weaker, or as someone entirely new—but I do know that once again, I face this alone.”
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 10:00 AM UTC
At least the names will always stay,
etched in ink, unchanged, unchanged.
No tide of time, no drift, no day
will shift the echoes once arranged.
They rest within my contracts sealed,
bound to the moments that we knew—
not to the faces time revealed,
but to the souls I journeyed through.
For who they were is who remains,
not who they grew to be, afar.
The past is carved in steady names,
not scattered by the shifting stars.
Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 1:06 PM UTC