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☆ It's okay though cause I'm cute and funny ☆

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Katherine Mansfield, from a diary entry featured in The Letters & Journals of Katherine Mansfield

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"We Write to Bleed Softer"

We write because we can't scream— so we etch it quietly into silence, each line a wound folded neatly on the page no one reads aloud.

Not all writing is pretty. Sometimes it reeks of rot, of a childhood stitched together with silence and duty, of love never fully given, of being seen but not understood.

We write because the ache needs form, and no one else is listening. A therapist would ask too much. A friend would turn away. But the page—the page never flinches.

Some days, it’s poetry. Others, it's confession dressed in metaphor, like calling your sadness a storm so people stop asking why you always carry an umbrella.

We write to survive the quiet, to name the ghosts before they settle in. We write because the mirror lies, but the ink doesn't.

Because trauma has no edges, but a stanza gives it shape. And if we're lucky— we make the pain beautiful for just a second, just enough to keep going.

We write to feel seen, but not too much. Heard, but safely. We write because we were never taught how to ask for help without apology.

So we pour instead, again and again, until the words sound like breathing, until the silence finally breathes back.

@ghostinkpoetry

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Charles Baudelaire, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Charles Baudelaire

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Franz Kafka, 1912

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– Jamie Oliveira | from "Erosion"

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