Mitchi Tamayo✨

I used to believe healing had a finish line.

That one day I’d wake up and feel “fixed,” lighter, whole — untouched by what hurt me before.

But healing doesn’t work that way.

Some days I feel strong.

Other days, something small pulls me back into old feelings I thought I’d already worked through.

And for a long time, I thought that meant I was failing.

It doesn’t.

Healing isn’t about never feeling pain again.

It’s about learning how to hold yourself when it shows up.

There are days when growth looks like boundaries.

And days when growth looks like rest.

Days when healing means speaking your truth.

And days when it means staying quiet to protect your peace.

No one tells you that healing asks for patience — not just with the process, but with yourself.

That it requires compassion on the days you feel like you’ve taken ten steps back.

But every step counts.

Even the slow ones.

Even the messy ones.

You’re not starting over.

You’re learning how to move ahead differently.

And that matters.

No longer do you entangle yourself in the mesh of my dream-snare;

you are the chief guest of my midnight

how could you not be seized within my net,

how vanish not with the first radiance of dawn?

Sweet visions seep through the hollowed spaces,

slender they descend, alighting upon my feathers,

and thus they reach unto my heart.

Yet you, you are none of them,

a fugitive from order, a wayward aberrance,

a substance estranged from harmony,

never shall you ripen into a blessed dream.

In the fetters of slumber, no mere shadow presses upon me;

nay, it is your own phantom-form that hunts my soul.

You fix your eyes upon mine,

and in that gaze beguile me,

that I mistake you for a gentle vision.

But anon, the other appears at your side

and the veils of truth descend, enfolding me.

Then do I comprehend: you are but a nightmare,

These are some lowkey underrated tips I’ve seen floating around writing communities — the kind that don’t get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.

1. Put “he/she/they” at the start of the sentence less often.

Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of

“She walked to the window,”

try

“The window creaked open under her touch.”

Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.

2. Don’t describe everything — describe what matters.

Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2–3 objects that say something.

“A half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the table”

sets a way stronger tone than

“There was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.”

3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.

Instead of:

"I'm fine," she said.

Try:

"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.

It helps shows emotion, and movement.

4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.

No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird — future you will thank you for at least something to edit.

5. When stuck, ask: “What’s the most fun thing that could happen next?”

Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesn’t have to stay — but chasing excitement can blast through writer’s block and give you ideas you actually want to write.

like a hand on my throat.

The space between us is agony,

and I am suffocating