People, people, people An ocean of people , But I can’t find even a drop of humanity.😎

Some hurts don’t leave. They just learn how to move with you. They settle in the quiet places no one asks about. Places that ache even on good days.

the ocean never keeps one face it shifts through wonder, wrath, and grace its restless heart is carved by sky where storms are born and currents lie. the winds arrive without a sound and turn familiar waters round the charts i drew with careful care are scattered like salt in the air. i fought the waves with clenched resolve insisting life should not evolve but seas ignore what pride demands and slip untouched through grasping hands. so slowly i unlearned the fight and learned to sail through darkened night to read the stars when shores were gone and trust the coming of the dawn. for courage is not calming seas or bringing tempests to their knees it is the art of standing true when every wave is passing through. and though the tide may pull away what once seemed certain in the day the soul grows stronger with each bend and finds its course beyond the end.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴... 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥.

Out of all the things I’ve lost. I miss my ability to trust again the most.

Real happiness begins when your life . Start to feel like your own. When your decisions reflect your values . Instead of someone else’s approval. When you joy doesn’t depend on applause, And your worth isn’t tied to the next thing you accomplish.

i need a break from all the noise from crowded rooms inside my thoughts and voice from carrying storms behind calm eyes from wearing strength as a disguise. the nights grow heavy on my chest like weary birds denied their rest and every hour bends too slow beneath the weight i do not show. i have been holding shattered skies collecting hurt in silent tides pretending i could still endure while losing what i once felt sure. so let the world move without me now i do not need to prove somehow that every wound can still survive by forcing tired souls to strive. let me disappear into the quiet air where nothing asks and no one stares where silence wraps around my bones and grief can speak in softer tones. some days are not for winning fights or chasing meaning through the nights some days are simply meant to be a place where aching hearts breathe free. and maybe healing is not loud not found beneath a cheering crowd but born within the gentle space where i stop running from my pain and face. the softer truth i could not know that even rivers need to slow that resting is not falling apart but giving mercy to the heart.