Some days, I still feel like a mess of memories I didn’t ask to keep.
There’s a heaviness in my chest, as if the weight of it all never left.
But healing, I’ve realized, isn’t about forgetting,
it’s about learning to breathe with the pain still here.
It’s waking up, finding the courage to choose softness,
even when the ache threatens to swallow me whole.
It’s letting the past quietly stand in the corner,
while I build — piece by piece — something new,
something warm enough to hold me through the cracks.