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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

I live in layers. What I say today might outgrow me by tomorrow. Because truth shifts, and people do too. To each their own madness, to each their own meaning. I’ve lived a thousand lives in just thirty years, seen far more than I ever wanted to, all in the name of love and the search for belonging. So when I look at others— whether they’re rising or unraveling— I see their choices, every one of them, as essential to their becoming. Do we ever truly have a choice, or was the