write
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Home, take me home, we mumble under our breath—quietly, like a prayer we barely believe in anymore. What are we even asking for? Where is this home we keep chasing? It’s never where we thought it would be. It never looks like the picture we painted. Always a little out of reach. We speak of…
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Here we sit in the silence. Not because it is peaceful, but because it is necessary.Not because everything is okay, but because we’ve made peace with not needing it to be. We arrive here not in victory, but in truth — carrying the bruises of what broke us and the beauty of what built us.…
