anasecrwt

[anasecrwt]

Perhaps in our deepest selves, we are only moving forward because the momentum of life demands it, not because we are certain of its worth.

[anasecrwt]

how i’m feeling now or whatever charli xcx said

[anasecrwt]

You see things deeply, maybe more than you’d like, and that knowing stays with you, shaping the way you move through the world. You’re not lost, but you linger in the in-between, where silence feels safer than speaking, yet you still search for understanding—maybe not from others, but from yourself.

You are both the keeper of your own truths and the one who wonders if silence will always be enough to hold them.

[anasecrwt]

You carry silence like a shield, not because you have nothing to say, but because you know that words, once spoken, can never be taken back.

[anasecrwt]

There is a quiet poetry in the way you ache, as if pain itself has learned to whisper through you, never loud, never demanding—just there, just endless.

[anasecrwt]

You exist in the in-between—between presence and absence, between longing and letting go. A ghost of yourself lingers in every room you’ve ever left, every moment you’ve tried to forget. You are both the wound and the hand that presses against it, unsure whether to heal or to unravel completely.

[anasecrwt]

It seems like letting go of that control would feel like losing a part of yourself—like opening up too much and risking the very thing that keeps you grounded. It’s understandable to hold onto what feels like your core, especially when everything else around you feels uncertain or out of your control. But even though it feels safer now, do you think there’s a possibility that, in the long run, that silence might start to feel like it's holding you back from something—maybe even from understanding yourself in a different way?