maybe this is what honesty looks like when no one is asking for it.

the cup left a ring on the table and somehow that felt like proof that the morning happened.

i keep mistaking endurance for healing. they are not the same thing.

"you do not need to turn every wound into a lesson before you let it breathe."

in another version of the city, she missed the train on purpose and called it fate because loneliness sounded too exact.