Things We Forget

I found an old journal at a thrift store. The handwriting was delicate, full of dreams and heartbreaks. I kept it because it felt like holding someone’s soul.

I once found a perfectly heart-shaped rock. It sits on my desk as a reminder that love shows up in strange places.

I found my first sense of peace walking alone through a forest trail. I kept it in my heart ever since.

I once found a locket buried in the sand with initials carved inside. I still don’t know who it belonged to, but it reminds me that every life leaves traces…

I consider myself to be a nudist. When I am alone in my room, I always take off my clothes unless I am cold. There is a neon sign on…

I am horrible at shaving my legs. Every time I do, I can’t help but think about how bad it is to value anyone based on appearances. Not to mention…

I skip eating breakfast when I do not awaken famished. Usually, I don’t get hungry until after noon.

I used to skip forgiving myself. I’d carry shame like armor. I finally realized forgiving myself did not make me weak — it made me light.

I always tried to skip stretching my comfort zone. But comfort is where growth goes to nap.

I used to skip checking in with loved ones. I assumed they were fine. I was wrong — sometimes, people need your words more than you know.