Love will Leave And Come Back

The holiest thing I ever did was survive — and even then, I was accused of blasphemy.

I met God once — she was fourteen years old, barefoot, and dragging the sun behind her like a diary she never meant for anyone to read. And then she looked at me through the mirror, and I realized I wasn’t meeting her… I was remembering.

standing in front of mirror whispering “you’re fine” until it sounds like a spell

If you find my name, keep it. I was never good at holding things.

Suffering is not holy. It is not redemptive. It is a knife, and it cuts, and it cuts, and it cuts.

I hope I learn to get over myself

I speak a language that sounds like English but isn't quite right - every word comes out slightly warped, a half-step out of tune. I exist in this almost-fitting space, hoping somewhere, someone is learning to speak my language too

i’m carrying different versions of me - they’re all very tired.