Somewhere in You

 

These days feel... softer.

Not because everything suddenly became perfect, but because I stopped needing it to be.
I’ve started finding joy in the quiet moments, in warm sunlight through the window, in the silence between thoughts, and in the calm that follows a deep breath.

There was a time I forgot how to just be. I carried too many expectations, fear, and doubt. I was always chasing something or trying to prove I was enough. I was tired, even when I smiled.

But something shifted.

Or maybe, someone entered my life with a kind of softness I didn’t know I needed. No big gestures. No loud promises. Just a presence that felt... grounding. Safe. Real.

And that changed everything.

These days, I speak more kindly to myself. I don’t apologise for who I am. I take care of myself, not because I have to, but because I want to.
I’m learning that being understood quietly is far more powerful than being heard loudly.

I laugh more. I daydream again. I write things down like they matter.
Because they do.
I do.

For the first time in a long time, I look in the mirror and see someone I actually like. Someone is becoming whole. Someone not trying so hard to be “enough,” but just choosing to be.

And maybe that’s what love really does, the quiet, real kind.
It doesn't rush in with fireworks.
It holds your hand when you're still trying to figure it all out.
It doesn’t fix you. It just reminds you: you were never broken.

These days, I feel like I’m slowly becoming myself again.
And if I’m honest...
It’s because of someone who never asked me to change.
But it made me feel safe enough to grow.