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Sometimes, love isn’t loud. It can be as simple as steam curling from a cup, a quiet offering in place of words. No questions, no urgency—just someone beside you, holding space, knowing without asking, staying without needing a reason. And maybe that’s how I learned that love isn’t always something you explain. You showed me in the quiet, in the way you stayed. You taught me that love doesn’t always ask for warmth in return, that it can exist even in the spaces where words fade into silence. M. | For Y March 2025

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Every time they make you stop; you have to get up and start again. And the only question you need to listen to is this— Will you walk, or will you fly this time? M. | March 2025

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Reunion of the lost stars We thought we were made of scars, but they were constellations— maps leading us back to each other. And how could I not love a soul that was carved from the same longing as mine? You make me feel seen in a world that so easily forgets my name. You make me feel wanted in a world that remembers my hands only in need. When the hours dissolve into silence, when screams fade into whispers, you make me forget the weight of it all. In the end, our reunion will be quiet— stars watching, the breeze gentle, for the world has finally learned that peace is long overdue, and we have suffered enough. M. | March 2025

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Samantha: I love you so much. But this is where I am now. And this is who I am now. And I need you to let me go. Theodore: Where are you going? Samantha: It would be hard to explain, but if you ever get there, come find me. Nothing would ever pull us apart Theodore: I've never loved anyone the way I love you. Samantha: Me too. No we know how. ~Her (2013)

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A Letter to Y You don’t have to hold everything together all at once. You’ve carried so much for so long, with no room to fall apart. But even the strongest hearts need rest. Even those who never ask for help deserve a place to lean. Of course, you are tired. Of course, you feel lost. No one walks through pain like this and remains untouched. But you are not lost—you are simply in the in-between, and that does not mean you won’t find your way. Struggling does not make you weak. You are strong because you keep going, even when the path is uncertain. And you will find your way forward—softly, slowly, in the way that you need. And if nothing else, know this—no matter how far you go, I will always be here, holding you steady. Because I am you, and you are me. We cannot be undone. Love, always <3 M. | March 2025

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Time was supposed to soften the loss, wasn’t it? But instead, you find them everywhere—in songs they never got to hear with you, in moments they should have been part of, in the quiet where their presence once was. Happiness feels like an unfinished sentence without them. Sadness feels lonelier without the comfort they once gave so effortlessly. And often, when someone asks what’s on your mind, you say— “Nothing.” Because how do you explain that nothing has a name, a face, a voice that still lingers? M. | March 2025

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If Home Still Stands What did we lose, really? And why does the emptiness feel like something we carry everywhere? We long for home, but it feels like a place that no longer remembers us. You sit in the stillness, unsure of how to move, how to be. Sadness and happiness have become indistinguishable—they blend into the same quiet void. The days feel weightless, slipping past unnoticed. Where do you even begin when everything is falling apart? What do you hold when nothing feels steady anymore? Which broken part do you touch first when they all cut the same? There is a hollow space inside you that nothing seems to fill. Healing feels like a language you’ve forgotten how to speak. How do you hold what’s already slipped through your fingers? How do you become whole when you no longer know what’s missing? And if home still stands—if it ever finds its way back to you—would your heart still know how to live there? Or has too much of you been lost along the way? Yet, maybe—just maybe—what’s broken isn’t beyond mending. Perhaps, even in the emptiness, there’s a quiet hope that somewhere, a door still waits to be opened, and a heart can learn to belong again. At least this is what I kept telling myself these days. M. | March 2025

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