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 sooner.
Not all weight is a burden.Sometimes it’s proof—that she could finally let go.A man feels the absence of that.
I realized recently that I have a lot in common with this fish.⠀The white-spotted pufferfish spends days in constant, meticulous motion. He wiggles in the sand to carve a pattern of perfect symmetry, building a sanctuary before a partner ever arrives.⠀That’s what I’m doing with this page.⠀While this project is a means of self reflection…
Some women see stillness and assume it means he’s waiting.For her. For a sign. For permission.But stillness can be motion—just internal.𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯.
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.
When I’m holding a woman I care about, my inner world feels held, too — and it makes the outer world feel less sharp.Not because she’s responsible for my calm.Because good closeness reminds me what I’m made of.Softness without fear.Strength without burden.Steadiness without control.Vulnerability without fragility.Warmth without urgency.Some people feel like noise. Others quiet me.
Living by the ocean, this is the sign I look for every year that winter has finally broke. The coast is waking up today! The first ribbon of water opening as the ice breaks and separates, and the first of the fleet being moved into place. The lobsters are coming out of hibernation, and the…
