#writtenwords

Younger me wouldn’t believe how much I love my body now. for so long, I felt ashamed of my curves like they didn’t belong to me.

I remember in 7th grade, a boy I had a crush on pointed at the curve of my thigh and asked, "what’s that extra bit of fat?" I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. I went home and couldn’t look at myself the same.

A dream is a delicate form of future memory.

Something within us already knows where we belong — even if reason hasn’t found the path there yet.

Humans are born with the ability to see, in their mind’s eye, what doesn’t yet exist.

This is the gift of imagination — and the curse of persistence.

For those who dream are also condemned to struggle.

They live between what is and what ought to be.

And that gap… it hurts.

But abandoning the dream is not rest — it is a different kind of death.

A quiet, inward death that comes not suddenly,

but through the slow fading of possibility.

Do not give up on what pulls you forward just because the road is hard.

Difficulty is not proof of failure, but a sign that the dream is worthy.

That you are becoming someone strong enough to hold it.

Remember:

Not everything that moves makes noise.

And not everything silent is standing still.

A dream is not measured by the speed of its fulfillment,

But by the depth of your persistence.

And those who persist — reshape the world,

even if at first, only their own.

And if you’re reading this now, know this is no accident.

Hope still exists.

The future you long for is still waiting.

A Promise A promise is not just words we say, It’s a quiet vow that chooses to stay. In moments bright and in moments tough, It stands beside when life gets rough.

It’s in the silence, strong and true, In every small thing we choose to do. Not written in ink, not carved in stone, But held in hearts, deeply grown.

A promise means “I won’t let go,” Even when storms begin to blow. It’s faith that time cannot erase, A gentle strength, a steady grace.