emotional

When I was little, I’d fall asleep all over the house, curled up on the couch, sprawled out on the carpet mid-play, sometimes with a book still open on my chest. I never made it to bed on purpose. Sleep just found me where I was.

But every single morning, I’d wake up in my bed. Tucked in. Lights dim. Blanket pulled up just enough. It was like the house had gently gathered me in its arms and placed me where I belonged.

Back then, I didn’t think about how it happened. It just felt safe. Like the world kept watch while I rested.

Now I know it wasn’t the house. It was someone who loved me quietly, steadily, without ever needing thanks. Love that carried me when I didn’t even know I needed carrying.

That’s the kind of love you remember your whole life. Even when everything else changes.

Berabaddie and Med student.

onchain… but barely

Retired couch potato who loves to crashout.
Believe me, it’s always something