f-0-rgetmenot

[f-0-rgetmenot]

Still not over you.

Not in the way I smile when you’re around.

Not in the way I listen for your voice without realizing.

Not in the way I pretend not to feel every shift, every silence.

You say little things. You hold my hand.

You call me your “little one”

but my heart calls you something deeper.

And maybe I’ve been faking strength,

But I can’t fake this life — not when every fall feels like falling for you.

[f-0-rgetmenot]

I watch the sea crash and think — this is how some goodbyes sound.

[f-0-rgetmenot]

Mixed signals, soft hands, and a heart that won't settle.

[f-0-rgetmenot]

Evening walks

Where the sky softens like a closing eyelid,

and the world finally hushes enough for me to hear my own heart.

I don’t pray out loud—

but every step feels like a question,

and every breeze feels like God whispering back.

He doesn’t need words.

He walks with me in silence,

and somehow, that’s enough.

[f-0-rgetmenot]

I’ve stretched.

Bent.

Shrunk myself to fit into places that never thought to expand for me.

I kept quiet in rooms where I used to be loud.

And now they ask, “what’s wrong?”

Nothing’s wrong.

I’m just finally being me.

Had I bent this much for Jesus, maybe I wouldn’t feel so empty.

Had someone done the same for me, maybe I wouldn’t see everything as a lie.

But I’m learning.

My peace doesn’t need to look like their approval.

[f-0-rgetmenot]

The Weight of Words

The same way words can save a life, they can also end one.

I don’t know how I was built, but God knew exactly what He was doing when He made me.

I’ve heard words that weren’t just sounds—they were daggers.

Piercing deep, opening wounds still trying to heal.

Pain so real, I could feel it physically… sometimes it got hard to breathe.

Do you ever pause—just a second—

To run through your mind what you’re about to say?

Do you ask yourself, "Would I want this said to me?"

Some jokes come coated with sharp edges that slice right through.

Some stick to your skin like an extra layer of shame.

Oh, how I wish we’d begin to consider the weight of our words.

How I wish we’d learn to limit those “jokes.”

Oh… oh… oh, but I can only wish.

Because nowadays, it seems we enjoy the hurt—

We laugh at the damage.

So inhumane.

Heartless.

Just piles of flesh walking around without hearts or conscience.

Kindness has become a foreign art.