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I guess some of us are not meant to live soft lives. Maybe not yet. Maybe not ever. But still, something in us keeps reaching for light. Some of us were handed grief too early, betrayal too often, and chaos in places where love should have been. And still, somehow, we are expected to bloom anyway. Yet among the ruins, we remain stubborn enough to keep growing. To become wildflowers in places that were never meant to hold beauty. Maybe that is why I have always loved wildflowers. They grow without asking permission to exist. They soften abandoned places simply by surviving there. I think people like us do the same. We may not have chosen the ground we were planted in, but we grew into something of our own. And for that, I want to say thank you. Thank you for never giving up. Thank you for continuing to create, to love, and to remain gentle even when the world has given you every reason not to. As June begins, may it remind us that growth is still growth, even when it happens quietly. And may us find more reasons to believe that what we have endured is not all there is. M. | To the ones who bloom anyway June 1st, 2026

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So May has reached its final page. Tears, heartbreaks, and spiraling are what made my May. But between the darkness, there were those who sat beside me without asking me to be anything other than what I was. They became small lights that refused to go out, no matter how fierce the storm became. I don't write as someone trying to convince themselves that everything is fine. I write as someone who has looked at the difficult parts honestly and still chooses to leave a candle lit in the window. I am aware that the ground was difficult. I acknowledge the darkness. But I refuse to let those things have the final word. I know how dark it can get. But I also know that's not the whole sky. M. May 31st, 2026

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Almost June again, but it is not the same June. The evenings still arrive softly. Rain still gathers on the windows like it remembers something. The sky still turns that familiar shade of blue before nightfall. But something in me has changed since then. Last June felt softer somehow. Even the uncertainty felt gentle because you were still woven into those days with me. We spoke about the future as if it were something waiting patiently for us, as if time would understand. Now June returns like a familiar street after years away. Recognizable, but quieter. The places are still there, yet the feeling feels lifetimes away. I think that is the strange thing about losing people and learning to heal. The world keeps repeating itself, the same months, the same seasons, the same songs playing somewhere in the distance, but you return to them as someone entirely different. Almost June again. But not the same June. And maybe not the same me either. M. May 2026

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“Hey, are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you for asking.” He says thank you whenever I ask if he is okay. Each time, he sounds a little surprised, like the question itself is unfamiliar. Then he softly thanks me for checking in, like it means more than such a small question should. I once asked him why he always says thank you. He told me he is not used to it. No one really asks him that. I do not know what to do with that realization, so I simply sit with it. Because somewhere between his thank you and my silence, I begin noticing what I am doing too. I keep apologizing to him. Sorry I feel like this. Sorry I’m like this. As if my emotions need to become acceptable before they are allowed to exist between us. He says thank you for being seen. I say sorry because I am afraid of being too much. And I only understand the contrast because it keeps happening between us. Maybe even in the way we love each other, we are still learning each other’s language, slowly and gently, like two souls trying to remember what home feels like. And somewhere between his gratitude and my apology, we are both quietly trying to protect the very things that undo us and keep us going. M. | of sword & armour May 2026

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“Hey,” I was away again, somewhere deep inside my mind. I tend to get caught in there longer than I realize. Have you been here long? I never mean to disappear this way, but my mind is a place where I can get lost for hours, days, sometimes even weeks. I suppose it depends on which doors open and which ones I wander through. Sometimes, it is a beautiful place, full of wildflowers and soft breezes, and I linger there too long, breathing in its beauty until evening begins to fall and the world calls me back. And I come back carrying the scent of blooming fields and the peace they give me. But more often, a different door opens, and I do not notice the change until the light has already shifted. I find myself in dark streets where hooded figures linger in corners, trembling as though something is coming for them. The air there smells like hospital corridors, sterile and cold, heavy with something already being lost. The lights hum like tired stars above me. Somewhere in the distance, something beeps in uneven rhythms, like a heart refusing to give up. And somewhere among those dim corridors, I always find a quieter version of myself, still waiting for someone to notice she is tired. I think that is why it takes me so long to come back sometimes. Because some corners of my mind do not let me leave so easily once I have wandered into them. I wish I could say all of this to him, but it would come out too long, too tangled, and I do not want to pull him into that world. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I don’t really know how to explain where I was.” He doesn’t interrupt me. He just waits. And then he says, gently, “It’s okay. Tell me everything. I have time.” M. | Wildflowers and Hospital Corridors May 2026

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We keep talking about the future as if it is a place we can bargain with. “Maybe one day.” “Maybe when the timing is kinder.” “Maybe when life stops asking so much from us.” What if, after everything, it still does not work out for us? At least we will know we tried. At least we loved each other honestly, even when the timing was uncertain and the future kept slipping through our hands. And maybe for now, all we can do is stay here in this fragile “what if” phase, somewhere between hope and letting go, between now and forever. Because somewhere along the way, we became each other’s definition of what love should feel like. So we remain here, loving each other in our own unique, little ways, hoping the universe is not cruel enough to let two people feel this much only to become strangers again in the end. M. | if this does not last, it still happened May 2026

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I’ve learned that fear could enter the room without love leaving it. It changed my reality, but it did not change what I felt. It did not change him as someone I fell in love with. It only changed the shape of the road ahead of us. What once felt certain suddenly became unfamiliar, a little farther away, a little harder to reach. Not impossible. Just no longer easy. Perhaps that is what I am also learning now. You can be sure of someone, and even sure of yourself, and still feel vulnerable. You can love with trust and still carry uncertainty in your chest. Those two things can exist together. And with him, I learned that peak intimacy is a calm nervous system. It was the way my body and mind responded to him. Because I no longer think intimacy can only be found in the loud things people talk about. Not in intensity. Not in obsession. Not even in always knowing what to say. It is finally being able to unclench around someone. Not constantly waiting for them to leave, change their mind, or make you earn their love all over again. It is the quietness of feeling safe while being loved. The kind of safety that reaches your body before your mind can even explain it. And maybe that is why, even after everything changed, my feelings did not. Because loving him still feels like peace, even when everything else feels uncertain. M. | him & soft love May 2026

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