#quietwriting

I don't want to be desired—I want to be understood.

Not craved for a moment, but truly withstood.

To be liked for the things that my mind—not my mouth—can do.

And not have to compensate for doing it too.

I don't want to be sexualized—I want to be held.

To be appreciated for my feelings and depth.

For my curiosity to be cherished, even if the questions seem dumb,

that when I ask for your favorite color, you don't answer with a sexual joke.

I don't want to be rushed—I want to be waited for.

Through actions, not only words.

To be worth “taking things slow”,

Not for you to say it just to gain my trust.

Sorry, not sorry if I ruined your plans.

But I refused to be pushed to the side,

While you tore my heart apart.

A quiet moment, where spices, glass, and light speak softly of seasons gone by.

From the atelier where warmth is crafted — one jar, one scent at a time.

This is not a story with an ending. It’s just a quiet place, where some words keep breathing.

I write from a life that changed.

In early 2024, I lost someone I loved deeply. Her name was Acchan. We had been together for thirteen years.

Since then, the world has gone quiet. And somehow, only writing has helped me stay.

Now, I live with Haru, a small chihuahua with big eyes and soft steps. She reminds me, every day, that we are still here.

I’ve worked in the field of social care for over twenty years. Words, like care, need to be gentle and honest. That’s how I try to write.

Most of my pieces are small. They come from quiet mornings, a dog’s tail wagging, the ache of someone not being there, and the light that still lingers.

If you’ve lost someone, or are just trying to walk through the day— I hope you find something soft here.

You are not alone. You don’t have to be strong all the time.

These words are not loud. But they’re still here. Just like you.

A quiet walk with someone small, through a spring too big to hold.

Walking with You, Through the Big Spring A quiet day with Haru. Nothing special—yet everything mattered.

On a quiet morning It was a day off. I woke up late after falling back asleep. Haru watched me silently as I sat, still foggy.

And then— the moment our eyes met, Haru quietly slipped into her backpack.

—Ah, today is a "let's go out" kind of day.

In the spring light We headed for a park near the mountains. Haru, filled with saved-up energy, trotted ahead on her small legs.

The river sparkled, the green hills looked fresh, and dandelions swayed by the roadside.

A frog peeked out slowly too.

A cool tile, a calm pause On the way back, Haru stopped at her new favorite spot— a cool tile near the supermarket.

She quietly watched the world pass by: cars, people, the wind.

A small nudge She suddenly ran up to a stranger, and melted into her hand, getting gently petted.

—She doesn’t always do that, I thought. Then she turned and tapped my leg with her paw.

——Your turn. Say something.

It felt like that.

Thoughts of Acchan Seeing a small child walking, I thought—

If Acchan and I had a child, would we have walked like this?

Looking at the shining river, I wished I could show her this.

As the wind brushed past me, I wished she could feel it too.

But strangely, I didn’t cry today.

Today was okay, too It was just an ordinary day. But every day, Haru seems to whisper:

“It’s okay.” “Let’s keep walking, together.”

And surely tomorrow, with your small paws, we’ll walk this big world again.

小さなきみと、大きな春を歩く

風の匂いも、たんぽぽの揺れも、 ぜんぶ一緒に、抱えて。

のんびりした春の日に、はるちゃんと歩いた道のことを書きました。

おでかけの朝 今日はお休みの日。 二度寝して、遅めに起きた朝。 ぼんやりしている私を、はるちゃんはじっと見ていた。

目が合った瞬間、 はるちゃんは、すっとリュックに入った。

——あ、今日は「たくさん出かける日」だ。

そう感じた、ゆるやかな朝のはじまり。

春の光の中で 久しぶりに、少し遠い山側の公園へ向かう。 はるちゃんは、お留守番でためた体力を満タンにしていて、 小さな足で、とことこと歩きながら、ぐんぐん先へ進んでいく。

川はきらきら光り、 山の緑は鮮やかで、 道ばたにはタンポポが揺れている。

カエルも、のんびり顔を出していた。

ひんやりタイルと、まったり時間 帰り道。 はるちゃんは、最近お気に入りのスーパー近くの、 ひんやりしたタイルの上で立ち止まった。

すれ違う車、人、風。 いろんな世界を、ただ静かに眺める時間。

小さなきっかけ 知らないおばちゃんと目が合うと、 はるちゃんは一目散に飛びこんで、うっとり撫でられていた。

「急に知らない人になつくこともあるんだなあ」

そう思って見ていると、 はるちゃんがチョイチョイっと私を前足でつついた。

——あなたも、話しなさいよ。

そんなふうに、言われた気がした。

あっちゃんのこと 小さな子どもがちょこちょこ歩く姿を見ながら、ふいに思った。

——あっちゃんとの間に子どもがいたら、 ——こんなふうに歩いたんやろうか。

キラキラした川を見て、 あっちゃんにも「見てほしいな」と思った。

風が気持ちよく吹きぬけるたび、 「あっちゃんも、いまこれを感じられたらよかったのにな」 そんな想いが、胸にそっと浮かんだ。

でも今日は、不思議と涙は出なかった。

今日も、だいじょうぶ 特別なことはなにもない、静かな一日。 だけど、はるちゃんは毎日、 「だいじょうぶやで」 「今日も一緒に歩こう」

そんなメッセージを、そっと届けてくれている気がする。

——きっとまた、明日も一緒に。