🎱 Sluggy .

Hey,

I don’t always know the right moment to speak, but I know this is one of them.

I’ve been watching you take those small, careful steps forward. You probably don’t notice them the way I do. Healing is quiet like that—no fireworks, no big announcements. Just you waking up and choosing to keep going, even when the loss still sits heavy in your chest. That kind of strength doesn’t get enough credit.

I won’t pretend I understand everything you’ve been through. I won’t rush you or tell you to “be okay already.” What I will do is stay. I’ll sit with you in the slow moments, bring you water when the weight gets too much, and remind you to breathe when the memories come back sharper than you expect. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.

Loving you doesn’t mean fixing you. You’re not broken. It means caring for you while you mend at your own pace. It means celebrating the days you feel lighter and holding you gently on the days you don’t. It means honoring what you lost while still believing—completely—in the life that’s still unfolding in front of you.

There’s something beautiful about the way you keep your heart open, even after everything. It tells me that love didn’t leave you—it just learned to be more careful. I hope, in time, you’ll let me be someone who earns a place there. No pressure. No hurry. Just honesty and warmth and the promise that I’m not going anywhere.

You’re allowed to heal slowly. You’re allowed to miss what’s gone. And you’re allowed to be loved right now, exactly as you are.

I’m here. Whenever you’re ready.

-Waterboy