Blood makes you related. Loyalty makes you family.

The right person, the wrong time.
The right script, the wrong line.
The right poem, the wrong rhyme.
And a piece of you that was never mine.

My heart was heavy, so I wrote, turned ghosts to words, let poems float. You read, you stayed, you understood—and that alone made bad days good.

So here’s my thanks, a whispered sigh—
I’ll step away, but not goodbye.

We don't regret what we did, we regret what we didn't do.

Crying is a way your eyes speak when your mouth can't explain how broken your heart is.

Don't feel sad over someone who gave up on you, feel sorry for them because they gave up on someone who would have never given up on them.

You'll either be the villain in someone else's story for standing up for yourself, or a fool in yours if you don't