Last Entry: As a Final Act of Love
Most people don't lose themselves in a single moment.
They lose themselves in the hundred quiet compromises no one applauds. In becoming easier to love than they are to know.
In smiling at the right time, saying the right things, carrying the right weight...
until one day, the person staring back looks familiar, but no longer feels like home.
When did that happen?
Perhaps there was never a single moment.
Only the slow ache of becoming someone who kept answering to your name.
Some words don't change you the moment you read them.
They wait.
The strangest thing about certain words is that they never feel new. They feel like something you've always known, but never knew how to say.
Perhaps every person leaves behind a version of themselves that never gets to speak.These pages simply refused to let that version remain unheard.
Some books ask to be read.
This one asks to be recognised.
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