clair de lune

I hope the realities of life never kill the child within me who dreams.

I hope that no matter how difficult, disappointing, or uncertain life becomes, I never lose that part of myself that dares to imagine something greater. The part that believes there is more beyond what I can see, more beyond what others expect of me, and more beyond the limits that fear tries to place on my future.

I hope I never become so consumed by survival that I forget how to dream. That I never become so familiar with reality that I stop believing in possibility. And when life inevitably asks me to grow up, I hope it teaches me wisdom without taking away my wonder.

Pre-pandemic was pre-you

I was one of the millions who died during the pandemic.

Tonight, I've come to realize that life indeed ends in 2019.. at least for me.

The Knowing

I loved him since I was sixteen—

so young, yet certain,

with a heart that knew only his name.

He came and went like seasons,

but every return felt like reason enough

to keep waiting,

to keep hoping,

to keep believing

that love could be that simple.

For the longest time, I was his—

even without promises, even without clarity.

I gave him my loyalty freely,

held nothing back,

even when I had every reason to let go.

I dreamed of futures with his name in them.

I swore I’d never love another.

Even talking to someone else

felt like a sin I couldn’t confess.

I held on for so long—

to the idea of him,

to the dream of us.

But today,

I saw him again after all this time.

And for the first time,

I didn’t feel the old ache.

No flutter, no longing,

no breath caught in my throat.

Just silence.

Just peace.

And in that quiet, I realized:

I’m free.

I’m not afraid anymore.

Not afraid to lose him.

Because if it’s meant to be, it will be.

And if it isn’t, then it won’t.

There’s a calm in me now—

a kind of security I never knew before.

I used to chase certainty,

cling to the thought that it had to be him.

But now, I can finally say:

I’m okay if it isn’t.

Still—

what hurts the most

is not that we didn’t become something more,

but how easily the bond we had

was broken by something so small.

Something so trivial,

yet it carried the weight

of everything we built.

Like strangers now.

After all the years of knowing each other’s silences,

we’re strangers again.

Not enemies.

Just… distant.

Like we never stayed up late talking,

never shared those quiet, knowing looks.

Like we were never friends.

And maybe that’s the real heartbreak—

not losing the love,

In vulnerability comes freedom and healing. Yet a lot of us are afraid of vulnerability. Why?

Because vulnerability requires courage.

Vulnerability pushes us to remove all the beautiful flowers in our garden that we use to hide the grave underneath it.

It's letting people see us naked. Our naked heart, naked soul and naked wounds.

So, if you have the means to be vulnerable, you're lucky. Don't let the world take away your vulnerability because they think it's a weakness.

Let me tell you something, vulnerability is not a weakness. The world just likes to think of it that way to avoid facing it because they are afraid of it.

Vulnerability requires so much courage and for that, you are so strong for being vulnerable.