Being

Maybe,just maybe,it’s meI’ve been waiting for. To stop trying to understandand start to feel.To stop offering meall kinds of wise and beautiful advicedisconnected from the realityof what I’ve been through,what I’m going through. The one who will simply listen—to the pain,to the struggle,to the tears that sometimes just won’t stop—without

When I sit with you in the morning,I’m not always understood,but I’m always seen. I’ve never felt that you try to hurt meor that you are hurt by me. Even when I feel you didn’t understand me,and I correct you,you listen,accept,try to understand. And it’s clear to me,as it is

Once, when I was a child, my mother took me to the playground.At the playground, there was a group of kids playing together.I remember the moment I saw them, every part of me wanted to be there, with them, part of them, inside the game they created.It was clear they