If I could sum up May in a single word, it would be: abundant. Not just in material things, but in love, experiences, celebrations, and meaningful moments. From the start, I knew May would be special—it was my birthday month, after all—but I don’t think I realized just how full it would be. It turned
Just a week before my birthday, I decided to gift myself something unforgettable—sun, serenity, and a whole lot of indulgence. So when the chance came to tag along with my friend and her family to Lanzarote, I didn’t hesitate. And let me tell you: it was everything. The Apartment Hotel That Had Me Fooled We
Lol.I had my wedding date set before anything even began.All my friends knew him.Most of my family did too.He wasn’t just a secret crushHe was the name I whispered into prayers I didn’t know I was still saying. He made me happy.Like… really happy.Even my friends said it“This is the happiest we’ve ever seen you.”I
I try to think but once again my mind is blankYou’ll think blinking is easier but I just stareI don’t want to play outside the sun anymoreI don’t like the rain either. It’s too gloomyI have my spot just at the far right of the bedI have my Egyptian cottons just ready to cover not
Under May’s clear skies, worries drift like passing clouds— the soul learns to rest. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” —Matthew 11:28
These four words—loss, grief, love, and life—are deeply intertwined for me. Whenever I reflect on one, the others inevitably come to mind. They are interconnected, each shaping and defining the other in profound ways. Loss is the end of something whether relationship, dream or a phase of life. For me in recent times, has often
Pink When I was a child, I was always in tune with my favorite hue, It made me feel like I was girlie enough, and that meant attractive. Looking at my rulers, my journals, and my dresses, I unearthed the long-lost princess within me, At least it made me feel like royalty— A world wrapped
I finally deleted your pictures, I finally removed the last of us. I hate how I glow in each frame that remains, Hate the wine glass, my lip stain, Hate to see my favorite dresses I’ll never wear again, Hate the pictures of food aesthetics, the art on my plate. Your face can’t be in
Shame is relative with matters of the heart, but is guilt truly inevitable? Is it that easy to break a person’s will or heart? Who is the mender of both? Does the heart know when the palpitations will come? You’re strong, they say. I was once broken; It was temporary. I became emotionally indifferent
