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I think I’ve been away from myself for a while. Not lost, just elsewhere. I don’t know when I stopped choosing myself so carefully, when I began delaying joy and postponing care as if they were luxuries instead of necessities. Somewhere along the way, I kept saying “later” to the things that needed me. But lately feels different. I feel present in my own skin again, softer, slower, more aware. I am listening. And perhaps it begins with a small step to stay here, to trust this moment. There may be a quiet power in choosing yourself, and maybe growth comes from simply being present with yourself. M. | here, alone February 2026

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Let’s outrun the ticking hours and laugh like we’re not counting them. Let’s chase the night until it spills into dawn. Let’s fill it with everything we’ve been holding back, steal every fleeting second, and burn it bright. If this is all we’re given, then let’s spend it wildly, like we’re already losing it. Hold each other as if the stars themselves are watching, as if this night might be the only one we ever get. M. | chasing night February 2026

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How perfect it is to find someone who has never reminded you of anyone. Everything about them feels new, the way they laugh, the way they think, the gentle way they exist beside you. Even their voice and presence bring a peaceful calm, like a late afternoon breeze brushing gently against your skin. You have always been drawn to the moon and the vast night skies, and yet when you think of them, you see sunlight flickers through the trees, brushing across their face as you lie together, the grass soft beneath you, the air warm and still. Every movement, every glance is unfamiliar, and yet it feels effortless, a presence you can rest in, an ease that flows through every part of you, settling like gentle light in your chest. It is as if the universe paused for a moment to create and place someone entirely unexpected in your path, not as what has come before, but as a new chapter, a soft beginning. And in that unfamiliarity, you discover them slowly, without fear, and love them gently, without comparison, with a gratitude that feels almost like destiny. M. | the moon & its sun February 2026

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"Because I know you." It’s probably one of the most intimate things one could say to another. It’s a simple sentence, almost ordinary, almost laughably small. I sent him a picture of the drinks my friend and I had, a matcha and a café latte. He asked, “Did your friend like the matcha?” Not even asking about the latte. When I asked how he knew I had the café latte, he said, “Because I know you, Mila.” Being known like that feels different, steady, uncomplicated. Like someone has been paying attention without announcing that they were, the way he remembers how I take my coffee without asking. It isn’t about the drink. It was never about the drink. It’s the small things that make me feel seen and remembered, the quiet evidence that I exist in his mind, that he has memorized the small, unremarkable pieces of me and kept them somewhere safe. As if remembering me was habit, as if knowing me was the most natural thing in the world. For a moment, suspended somewhere between that sentence and my own quiet smile, I wished I could stay there forever, up in the clouds where something so small could mean everything. M. | coffee & clouds February 2026

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Maybe there is no happy ending for us. Maybe there are only little stops along the way. Moments where the light hits just right, brief pockets of joy where we are allowed to breathe before life moves again. And we keep going. So take the chance. Be delusional. Fall in love even if your heart trembles. Let it break if it must, but love anyway. You’ll learn what feels like home and what doesn’t. And what you want, what you won’t beg for again. Be delusional about your own happiness. Let yourself believe you can try everything, no matter how it turns out. Be absolutely happy with little wins. Celebrate the mornings you get up when the world feels too much, the risks you took, the times you chose yourself without asking for permission. Live the story you want to remember. Be reckless with hope. Be loud with peace. Be soft without apology. Be strange. Be entirely yourself. We are not getting out of here alive anyway. Leave marks on people, on memories, on your own becoming. Love hard. Try again. Break. Heal. Begin again. Do not exit this life having only half felt it. At least these are the things I tell myself. I am not there yet… but I am on my way. M. | little stops February 2026

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Maybe it’s just me getting older, but I’ve started to realize that real love is simple. It’s someone asking, “Did you eat?” Someone texting, “I’ve reached work.” Someone who lets you rest when you’re overwhelmed, who doesn’t take it personally when you go quiet or slip into your moods. It’s doing separate things, yet still feeling connected in a way that doesn’t need constant reassurance. It’s being vulnerable, a little irrational, a little foolish, and still finding yourself held, not judged, not dismissed, just held. It’s feeling safe even after a bad fight, knowing the argument isn’t the end of you, but two imperfect people trying to understand each other better. Maybe love isn’t always fireworks and all-consuming passion. Perhaps sometimes it’s just someone choosing to stay, laughing at your little habits, and quietly holding space for you. And maybe love is just someone quietly caring for you, in all the little ways. M.| Haven February 2026

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There are days when memory brushes against me without warning. My phone beeped. A notification; my father had joined a messaging app. It wasn’t him, of course. Just his number, finally given to someone else after eleven years. I never deleted it. It stayed there, untouched, like a small door I wasn’t ready to close, an echo of a life I have carried with me everywhere. Seeing that notification felt strange, like the world moving forward without asking me first. Not dramatic, just quietly final. A simple system update, indifferent to the weight it carried, as the hours slipped ahead while I lingered in the spaces he left behind. Then, at lunch with a friend, I saw an older gentleman walking past our table. He moved exactly like my father. The same rhythm. The same familiar lean. I must have looked too long, because he noticed. He nodded at me and smiled, the familiar twinkle in his eyes catching me off guard. It made me miss him a little more. But for a moment, it felt as though the world was letting him pass by again. And perhaps, in its mysterious way, it reminds us that love, no matter how long or how far gone, is never truly lost. It finds its way back to us, just not always in the way we expect. M. | door February 2026

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