Life has a way of writing stories
Life has a way of writing stories deep into our bones.
These aren’t the kind of stories you tell.
They’re the ones you remember in the quiet.
The ones that ache when it rains.
The ones that surface when you're lying awake at 3 A.M., wondering how the hell you became this version of yourself.
We carry them everywhere—in ways we don’t even realize.
In our posture, weighted by unspoken burdens.
In our silence, holding space for what can’t be said aloud.
In the way we flinch when someone raises their voice just a little too sharply.
And in the way we soften, almost imperceptibly, when someone truly sees us—really sees us—for the first time in ages.
Life writes its chapters with joy and heartbreak.
With kisses and goodbyes.
With beginnings disguised as endings.
And endings that still haven’t healed.
You didn’t imagine it.
The pain.
The beauty.
The growth.
It’s all real.
Your bones remember every page.
Every word written in moments both tender and brutal.
Every chapter marked by love lost, lessons learned, and strength forged from struggle.
And that story?
It’s not finished yet.
There are more pages to fill. More chapters to write.
More moments that will leave their mark—not just on your skin or in your mind—but deep within the core of who you are.
Because life doesn’t just happen to us; it becomes part of us.
And though some stories may never fully make sense, they are yours.
They belong to you.
And they will always matter.
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