Observer of quiet lives and loud truths.
Words, images, and the spaces between.
Writing what most people feel but don’t say.
Private by nature. New here.
This is my quiet journal.
some quiet,
some unrecognisable,
all mine.
Now I only care
about being understood
and even that,
only by a few.
Now I only care
about being understood
and even that,
only by a few.
It waits.
It watches.
It knows when to speak
and when to let the world guess.
It waits.
It watches.
It knows when to speak
and when to let the world guess.
it’s usually because you’re meant to see differently, not blend in.
it’s usually because you’re meant to see differently, not blend in.
Desire is the thing
you pretend not to feel
until it notices you.
It doesn’t ask.
It waits.
Desire is the thing
you pretend not to feel
until it notices you.
It doesn’t ask.
It waits.
I raised it because my calm was ignored.
My words were soft,
but softness wasn’t heard
until it broke into sound.
I’m not angry
I’m exhausted
from having to shout
just to matter.
I raised it because my calm was ignored.
My words were soft,
but softness wasn’t heard
until it broke into sound.
I’m not angry
I’m exhausted
from having to shout
just to matter.
It learned restraint
after learning consequence.
It learned restraint
after learning consequence.
not lines.
While others skim the surface,
I’m listening to what isn’t said.
not lines.
While others skim the surface,
I’m listening to what isn’t said.
I am shaped by it,
and I carry its lessons
like a quiet blade.
I am shaped by it,
and I carry its lessons
like a quiet blade.
like a low tide
still present,
still shaping the shore,
but no longer drowning me.
like a low tide
still present,
still shaping the shore,
but no longer drowning me.
but she still lives in me.
but she still lives in me.
some quiet,
some unrecognisable,
all mine.
some quiet,
some unrecognisable,
all mine.