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Humility is the absence of war within ourselves. As I stand in the spice aisle, frustrated that I don’t know more, afraid I’ll be seen as ignorant or lesser, I am reminded that the battles inside me still rage on even in the unseen and unfamiliar parts of myself. So what do I do? I fight back. I stomp my feet. I pout. Because in that moment I am thirteen again— unheard, unseen, disconnected from myself and from those who were supposed to teach me my value. Yet here I stand, a

If love is truly not built on reciprocity Then I hope my love gave you What you needed. I hope you took what you needed And learned how to live better, See better, Do better. Even if a part of me still screams and grieves— Because that love should have been mine. But it never would have been. It never could have been. You needed a different kind of love To keep moving forward. For that part of your becoming, I am grateful to have been present— Even when it cost me heartache.

I know your heart is scared— to feel again, to try again, to open and let love find its way in. To let happiness rest in your chest without waiting for the moment it disappears. I know that every smile, every kiss, every shared laugh, is both breathtaking and terrifying. Not because it’s wrong, but because it feels like home. You love the way my hand finds yours, how our bodies seem to know the same language. The way we speak the same thought without needing words. How each k