Cornelia St.

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For years, the feelings that were too heavy to say out loud were hidden between the lines. They were buried in my chest, waiting for a chance to come out one day. Writing sonnets inspired by Shakespeare has become my way to let them out, a way to say what I've been keeping inside.

Each poem holds a piece of me—the doubts, the longings, the things I wish I had the courage to say. Even when I pour my heart out in writing, I can't help but wonder if the person it's meant for will ever see it.

Most of the time, it feels like I'm having a one-sided conversation, hoping for an answer that never comes. Still, writing gives me a reason to keep going, a way to sort through all the chaos in my head. These sonnets, raw and deeply personal, are my way of quietly saying, "I'm here. I matter." Even if no one is paying attention, maybe that's okay—just getting the words out feels like enough, even if they only come back to me.

And as I return to Cornelia Street, I relive each moment as if it happened just yesterday.

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