I was yours, Now I’m mine.

The quiet ones never chase attention; they leave fragments of truth for those willing to find them.

Looking back at history, no era compares to the 1900s. The music, the fashion, the community, and the sheer pace of innovation—it was truly the peak time to be alive.

I see through you; there’s nothing left behind the illusion but emptiness.

My life is a hymn sung by grief to an empty sky.

Torment is the slow art of dying without the mercy of death.

she keeps vigil over vows whispered under porches and over thieves of time who think the darkness forgets

Somber times carve cathedrals from the ruins of the heart.

Some days, life feels like a slow obituary written in invisible ink.

The ghosts have made a cathedral of my silence.

The wound healed; the lesson stayed.

I remember every kindness—and every cruelty.

I bloom where ghosts once whispered.

A quiet place to breathe.

Every interaction feels like another reason to disappear into the quiet.

You called me darkness; I merely stopped carrying your light.

I love cats.

If you don’t make peace with your darkness… It will swallow your light.

I’m ready to get off this ride.

Life is shit and if anyone tells you different, they are either disgustingly rich, willfully ignorant or living in a fantasy world.

The day they choose me is the day they stop feeling untouchable.

Women are paying the price for the men society keeps excusing.

A country that exalts predators teaches every coward what he can get away with.

the only thing we truly own are the words we never say

I no longer look for the good in people; I wait for the mask to slip.

Nothing reveals more about a person than how quickly they dismiss what they don’t understand. My path doesn’t require your belief—only basic respect.

Enough is the quietest revolution I’ve ever started.

She was never too much—they were simply too little.

She no longer mistook being chosen for being cherished.