I found an old notebook of mine—
worn the way it was meant to be,
soft at the edges,
beautiful in its survival.
It still carries the scent
of my high school lotion,
sweet and unfamiliar now.
I didn't know a version of me
could linger like that—
quietly, faithfully—
on paper.
This notebook was my whole world.
I thought I remembered
everything I wrote inside it.
I was wrong.
I was young.
I was foolish in the way youth allows.
I mistook comfort for love,
attention for devotion,
kindness for forever.
I truly believed
I had it all figured out.
But standing here now,
older, gentler,
I can only ask—
what was I thinking?
The pages don't answer.
They just hold the girl I was,
still trying,
still hoping,
still learning
what love was
not.
YOU ARE READING
Every part of me
PoetryThis book took years to begin. Not because I lacked words, but because I lacked the courage to open my heart. To my readers- this is my soul, laid bare. Every page holds a piece of me: my vulnerability, my joy, the moments I loved deeply, and the gr...
