Writing, shipping, and failing forward βοΈπ
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late bus, rain on the glass. I make a map of small comforts β a warm cup, a quiet street β and pretend missing you is just soft weather.
There is a sacred calm that follows every moment you choose understanding over control.
There is beauty in knowing you are unfinished, yet still deserving of love.
You can rest now; whatβs meant for you will never need chasing.