the unknown pen

There is something beautiful about choosing to stay when there is nothing to prove. Love was never meant to be a competition of who can arrive first, who can give more, who can say the right words, or who can make the other person fall the hardest. Sometimes love is simply two people deciding…

The world can show you just how cruel it can become. But please — don’t let what it has shown you convince you that there is nothing left for you to see. There is still another morning. There are still versions of yourself you haven’t become yet.

Change without truth is just another version of pretending. What happens when you finally say the things you’ve spent years avoiding? And what happens after the truth — when you’re no longer sure what you’re asking to change?

I don’t get to put it down when a chapter becomes too much. I wake up inside the next page. If you were trapped inside a book you regretted reading, wouldn’t you keep searching for the ending?

They see the anger but never ask where it came from. Nobody saw the death of the person I was before. Silence became a language. And before I knew it, I had become fluent in something that was slowly removing me from myself.

If I could relive one year, it would be 2017. The last time I felt looked at without being measured. The last time something in me was still alive before the acting began. I think I will always be paused somewhere in 2017.

Some pain is too deep for tears. It settles into silence and learns to live there. The bravest thing I’ve ever done when no one was watching was simply getting through the moments where I didn’t know what to do with everything I was feeling.

In the flash of a moment, a sentence slipped through: “We’re not even a couple.” The laughter continued. But those words had already found somewhere permanent to live. That is how everything can be gone in an instant without anyone seeing it leave.

I get home, close the door, and I can finally be myself. It’s almost like I have to find myself again after being outside too long. And for a little while — just a little while — I can breathe again.

I was raised to accept people, to stay loyal, to give chances. But somewhere along the way I started asking a question I was never taught to ask. What about my pain? What about my dreams? What about me?