The sharing economy has transformed
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Some truths arrive slowly, unraveling piece by piece. By the time you see the whole picture, it feels like you always knew.
I thought being an adult meant freedom, turns out it’s just bills.
Climbing like: “This is true love.”
Under rotted wood, larvae churned decay into life Each bite rewrote the future in silence What we call waste, they call beginning
Inside a crater lake, flamingos waded like forgotten ballerinas Their reflections wobbled into poetry Balance bloomed from patience, not precision
There’s something magical about the first sip of water when you’re truly thirsty.
I don’t always feel strong. But the way the roots twist through stone, the way moss finds light in shade, the way birds return after storms—all of that makes me believe that resilience doesn’t have to be loud. Sometimes it’s quiet, green, soft, and steady.