I folded my small hopes into pockets of quiet, pretending the nights won't miss me too much β breathing in slow, hopeful maybe. βοΈ
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I traced the outline of my quiet days, picking up small bravery like seashells β still learning how to keep them. βοΈ
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Itβs okay to rest today; your tired heart is learning new rhythms. Every quiet choice to keep going matters. π
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