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’ll answer first:𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞:When I can’t give a detailed emotional response right away, it’s not because I’m hiding something—It’s because it takes time for me to feel my thoughts through enough to understand what they are. After that, it takes more time to think of the right…
There are a thousand ways I say “I want you.”This is one of them.
𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏.𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦.
Silence is rarely neutral. For one person, it can feel like pressure building in the chest — 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺? For the other, it can feel like containment — 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦. Both are trying to stay safe. I used to go quiet…
I’ve watched people cling to apologies because hope feels safer than grief.But grief is honest. It frees you.Hope is beautiful, but not every situation—or every person—deserves yours.
To me, healthy love doesn’t look like a cycle of panic and grand gestures. It looks like a steady rhythm of small, ordinary evidences. It’s the regular heartbeats of showing each other we’re each’s other in all the small ways. Not a dozen roses because I’m “in trouble,” but materializing back at the cart while…
