I don’t think we talk enough about how much hurt we carry inside us — quietly waiting for that one moment when everything finally clicks again. That moment when the weight lifts, when the pain we’ve been holding onto suddenly loosens its grip.
I carry the hurts, the words I never said, the tears I cried in silence. And somehow, in the middle of it all, I still believe there will be a moment when it fades — when everything feels right again, even if only briefly. In that moment, life feels gentle, almost perfect, as though it never threw its lemons at me in the first place.
Maybe that hope is what keeps me going — the belief that healing doesn’t always announce itself, but when it comes, it feels like coming home.
