The Way Back To My Own Hands

I didn't write these pages to be understood. I wrote them because the silence was getting loud. These pages are where I set things down. I was never meant to carry alone names I don't say out loud, memories that still knock, love that stayed too long and left too fast. If you've ever held yourself together with shaking hands, if you've ever survived something and didn't know what to call it after, this is for you.

These pages don't offer closure; they offer honesty. They don't promise healing, just somewhere safe to sit while the ache softens. Read slowly. Leave when you need to. Come back when your hands are ready. There is a way back. I found mine in the writing. Maybe you'll find yours here too.