it feels different when you know someone at a deeper level. not because they become easier to understand, but because they begin to exist beyond the version you first met. little by little, stories reveal themselves: old memories, passing thoughts, the things that shaped them long before your paths crossed. it’s like watching chapters of a book slowly emerge from the shadows, realizing there is so much more beneath the pages you’ve already read. sometimes i think that’s why i stopped wandering around parks in the city. why i stopped sitting at my favorite seat at the café. not because those places changed, but because somewhere along the way, my attention found something far more consuming than the comfort of familiar corners.

i used to carry so much anger inside me, more than i even realized at the time. it didn’t just stay with me, it spilled out in ways i couldn’t control, and i poured it onto the wrong people, the ones who didn’t deserve any of it. i was so caught up in what i was feeling that everything else blurred. i didn’t see clearly anymore. it blinded me, made me forget who i should’ve cared for, who was actually there, who stayed even when i was hard to be around.

looking back at my drafted writings, i can still remember how every little detail felt, the weight of each day, the quiet battles no one saw, the small victories that felt bigger than they should have. last year was the toughest it had ever been. it stretched me, tested me, and at times, almost convinced me that i wouldn’t make it through the way i hoped i would.