expire with time.
Today, my heart carries a mix of emotions—like waves crashing against the shore, some gentle, some relentless. It’s been a long day, but more than that, it’s been a long time. A visit to Ariyah is always long overdue, yet it never feels like the right time. Maybe because grief doesn’t run on schedules, and love doesn’t expire with time. But it always comes with a weight, a heaviness I try not to bring with me. I want to meet her with love, not sorrow. With peace, not the burdens of everything that’s happened.
The past few years have been relentless. Life hasn’t been still, and I’ve had to learn how to move with it, even when the direction felt uncertain. Coping, adapting, surviving—it all became muscle memory. But what still shakes me is the lack of kindness in this world. The way people choose selfishness over understanding, cruelty over compassion. And I think that’s why I talk about it so much. Because if I can remind just one person to be softer, to be more human, then maybe this world doesn’t have to feel so cold.
As I drove past the Capitol today, after sitting in the World Peace Garden, I saw something that made me pause. A protest, or something like it—elders standing together, holding signs, asking for nothing more than kindness. Just the word: kindness. A simple request, yet one so often denied. I wanted to stand there with them. I should have. There was something sacred in that moment, a kind of magic that whispered, You’re not alone in this fight. And for once, I believed it.
My visit with Ariyah stretched past the sun’s setting. The cemetery, wrapped in the embrace of night, became a maze, and for a moment, I felt lost—not just in direction, but in spirit. Maybe it was the fear of the unknown, or maybe it was the presence of something unseen, something beyond this world. I wanted to stay, to sit in silence a little longer, to let my heart spill into the night air. But my phone went offline, and I knew that was my sign to leave. Sometimes, the universe whispers, and sometimes, it simply takes the choice away.
Life is strange. Beautiful, unpredictable, and at times, painfully poetic. I don’t know which direction I’m going—north, south, east, or west—but does it really matter? Movement is movement. And sometimes, stillness is necessary too. We’re not meant to chase the sun every day. The darkness has its purpose, too.
I used to fear too much time alone, and maybe I still do. The past three days of solitude dug into wounds I thought had closed. Silence has a way of forcing you to listen—to pain, to exhaustion, to the echoes of everything you’ve tried to quiet. But today, I feel different. Today, I am calm. And instead of resisting, I am letting the day take me where it wants to. Because maybe that’s the lesson—to let go, to trust, and to simply exist.
Dear Diary, 