I thought I hated anchovies.
Then I had them in Sicily.
Turns out I just hated bad ones.

How do you sound like a philosopher and a best friend at once?

I wish I could save this feeling you created.

I could smell the coffee and hear the silence.

You caught the space between moments and made it speak.

This feels like a permission slip to be human.

You’ve written something that feels like truth, not just opinion.

That felt more like a memory than a post.

You wrote this for everyone who’s been quietly waiting to be seen.

I love how this isn’t trying to be anything other than true.