Fixing My Face in the Driveway

There’s a difference between being composed and being closed.
I’ve done both.
When I’m composed, I have room for you.
When I’m hiding, there’s barely room for me.

There’s a difference between being composed and being closed.
I’ve done both.
When I’m composed, I have room for you.
When I’m hiding, there’s barely room for me.
I had to buy ice and strawberries and motor oil today.None of that felt romantic.But if I’d been buying them for someone else, it might’ve.
I once thought being strong meant being quiet.It turns out it often meant being afraid.I carried weight without naming it. I thought that was love.It kept me hidden from the people who mattered most. I “protected” others from truths I thought would hurt them. It made us strangers. I’m learning to say the truer thing…
𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺, 𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺.𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘺, 𝘤𝘳𝘺.But don’t disappear because someone else couldn’t hold your weight.You are not unlovable.You are not too much.You are just carrying more than most people ever will—and still walking. I know how that feels. I’m proud of you—Honestly, I’m proud of myself too.Frankly, you and I?…
Neglect doesn’t always look like walking away. Sometimes it looks like staying, but no longer being curious.
You do the cooking? I do the cooking?You do the laundry? I do the laundry?You brush the dog? I shave the cat? Just details. What I’m after is the woman whose company makes the doings feel like the main event. A best friend who turns a Tuesday at the stove into a highlight of my…
I put the lid back on the peanut butter without thinking about it.Didn’t sigh. Didn’t narrate it to myself.Didn’t analyze it.Did the thing and moved on.Cleaned the spoon and got on with the day. Just noticed afterwards—Huh. I’m probably okay today.