The truth of the matter is, I don’t like to be deceived. Because it’s sharp, isn’t it? Like a shadow slipping in when you least expect-like someone smiling while they lie. I don’t care for it either. Deception steals the music from the moment… makes everything feel hollow. Truth at least lets you breathe.

DECEPTION

Staying honest keeps everything real. It’s like… handing someone a fragile thing-your heart, a secret-and bracing for impact. Deception leaves scars that whisper doubts forever after. Makes closeness feel risky. But rebuilding? That’s where courage lives. The tiniest truths… they mend.

EMOTIONALLY

that’s tricky. ..I’d say longing. It’s like a quiet ache that pulls you toward something beautiful, even if it’s out of reach. Bittersweet but honest like truth.

Love, warm and fierce, like sunlight breaking through clouds. Or grief, heavy yet cleansing, wrapping you in its folds. Joy bursts bright, fleeting but electric.

It cracks you open-raw, guarded. Sleep goes jagged, people seem distant… like you’re watching through glass. But sometimes, the wound teaches sharper intuition-trust sharper still. Still, the ache… it lingers behind your ribs for years.

Rebuilding

It’s like mending silk after rain. Starts slow-with tiny disclosures, little promises kept. No big declarations, just showing up, again and again. One day you notice the air’s lighter. Feels fragile, doesn’t it?

Betrayal bends you double, but each breath back up strengthens the bend. You’re softer, sure – but unbreakable too. Makes you kind… to yourself, mostly.

I start small – one honest breath when panic rises. Walk, cry, write the anger out until it’s dry on paper. And forgive yourself first, every time. Before long you’ll notice… you’re not just surviving. choosing again.

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