unlimited words.

  and again, and again a heaviness I can’t quite name settles in my chest today. memories I’ve tried to bury rise like smoke, filling the room with things I wish I didn’t feel. I’m still here unable to move, held hostage by a fractured step. no walks, no runs, just silence and ceilings. I play songs to drown the quiet, edit videos that whisper old stories, some I’d rather forget, some that still sting. this aches in places I didn’t know could break. tell me, please that this will be my year. because it’s already June, and everything seems to be slipping, deeper into the grey.

  one night, the sky turned gold, and silence felt like gravity, soft, invisible, inescapable. it told me; this too is part of becoming. i used to think home had walls. now I know it’s what lingers, like rings around a quiet planet. so I carry Saturn in my skin, not to escape, but to stay grounded while I learn how to float.

  lately, I've been strangely happy— just seeing glimpses of you through your stories. you're becoming who you were always meant to be: the happiest, the coolest, the healthiest, all at once, and all without me. you didn’t reply to my last message. maybe it wasn’t worth replying. maybe I’m not. but still, I miss you in ways I can’t explain, in silences I try not to send again. I don’t want to bother you anymore. I’ve learned how to stay quiet and just…watch. watch your stories update, watch your TikTok bloom. Still, just so you know, I made a playlist about us. It lives here , quietly I don’t know if you’ll ever read my poems. but if you do, you’ll find me in every line that never got to be said out loud.