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.
I’m Steven.I’m a man on PEI, and I write.Not by trade, but by temperament. This page is where I put my thoughts about love, character, repair, and the kind of relationship worth building. It isn’t a quote page.It isn’t a joke.And it isn’t written by a brand. It’s just me. I’m Steven I started this…
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.
She flinched.The world hit her first. He didn’t flinch back.He didn’t explain. He just stepped forward—and became the thing the world had to go through. ___________________________This page is for women who still wonder if a man could actually feel her—not just want her, or need her, but *get* her.Women who’ve had to carry both the…
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.
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.
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.
