cup of coffee ☕

this is the kind of sadness that only 2 AM brings. the world is quiet, but my mind isn't. unanswered questions, endless what-ifs, plans that never happened, regrets, and so much self-loathing.

It's Valentine's Day, and somehow my heart remembers you the way it did in 2020 — soft, certain, and a little bit brave.

Time has passed, life has changed, but today you crossed my mind like a memory that never really faded. Not with regret, not with bitterness — just with a quiet kind of what-if.

no one really prepared me for this kind of loneliness. it's not the "i have no one" type, it's the kind where people exist around me, but no one truly sees what's happening inside me. i move through routines, keep everything running, make sure my baby is loved and safe… and meanwhile, i disappear a little bit each day.

sometimes i wish someone would just notice. not the mess, not the chores, not the baby, but me. i wish someone would ask how i am and actually want to hear the answer. i wish i didn't have to be strong all the time.

but here i am, showing up every day anyway. even on days when my chest feels heavy and my heart feels tired. even when i'm overwhelmed or overstretched or simply lonely.

i'm doing this for my child. and i'm doing this for the version of me who still hopes that someday, i won't feel so invisible. someday, i'll feel supported. someday, this loneliness won't sit on my shoulders like a weight.

for now, i just needed to say it out loud: