I never truly understood religion,
yet I bowed my head and worshipped God
even while doubting His existence.
Each prayer, each amen, each call to the Holy Spirit
felt less like faith and more like routine.
Not hatred—just confusion.
No one ever explained why we worship
a being so distant, so high above us.
Then one Friday evening,
the heavens—somehow—led you to me.
A blessing, a curse, a lesson;
I still don’t know which name fits best.
All I knew was the urge to understand you,
to turn the pages of your character slowly,
as if your story was bound in quiet December nights.
I can’t say for certain
whether heaven placed you in my hands
or hell reached out with burning fingers.
But one thing is clear—
through you, I learned what it means
to feel blessed.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 12:13 PM UTC
Everyone has their way of taking coffee.
I think it’s really a way of choosing
how we face the world.
Some choose black—
not because it tastes good,
but because bitterness feels honest.
Because struggle is familiar.
Because they have learned how to swallow pain
without sugarcoating it.
Some choose sweet—
not because they love coffee,
but because they love the idea of softness,
the illusion of ease,
the promise that life can be gentle
if you stir hard enough.
I choose cream.
Not to erase the darkness,
not to drown the sweetness,
but to let them exist together.
I have tasted every shade—
burnt, bold, delicate, artificial,
light and heavy on the tongue.
I have learned that I could drink
every flavor in the world,
and still return to cream.
Not for the taste.
But for what it means.
For balance.
For familiarity.
For the quiet knowing
that home is not a place,
but a feeling I carry in my cup.
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 2:53 PM UTC