The Soft Places I Landed

There are things that kept me here

when I didn’t have the strength to stay for myself—

quiet things, steady things,

things that never asked me to explain the heaviness

but held me anyway.

.

He has been my rock,

and I don’t even think he knows it fully.

The way he loves me—

the way he sees me—

it makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.

Not in the loud, dramatic kind of way.

Just… fully seen.

He listens to me.

He holds me.

And somehow, I always feel like I belong.

He makes me feel loved in a way that feels safe,

like I don’t have to earn it.

I love that man more than words will ever reach.

This is just the beginning of our story,

and I’m so excited to keep reading it.

.

Writing has kept me steady.

I didn’t know how much I needed it until I started

sharing the things I used to only say in my head.

It’s terrifying and freeing—

to be this vulnerable

in front of people who don’t know your whole story.

But it’s been beautiful, too.

The work I’ve created lately

feels like the most honest thing I’ve ever done.

It feels like survival,

like breathing through all the weight I carry.

Writing helps me feel whole—

not fixed, just fully here.

I don’t think I’d trade that for anything.

.

And reading…

reading lets me leave for a little while.

It’s the only thing that feels like magic

every single time.

I fall in love with every character,

every voice behind the page.

I read from the eyes of the author,

the heart of the reader,

and the skin of the character—

and somehow I feel all of them at once.

Books let me live a thousand quiet lives

when mine feels too loud.

.

These are the softest ways I’ve stayed alive—

his love,

my writing passion,

my reading obsession.

Not one of them asked me to be anything

but myself.

And maybe that’s why they saved me.