Celine Ong | Updates

October Reflection — “Evening Gratitude”

Celine Ong — Fri, 31 Oct 2025 10:54:12 -0400

The day folds its wings in quiet grace,
soft lamps hum where worries fade.
I thank the small things — a word, a smile,
the way the air forgives my sighs.

Not everything stayed the way I hoped,
yet the heart learns the art of release
to bless what left, to keep what stayed,
to trust the night will hold me still.

To trust everything unfolds as it should,
despite tired and weary, I tried my best to hold on
the positive camaraderie and the lessons,
each one a lantern I carry into tomorrow.

Tonight, I rest not in perfection,
but in quiet appreciation
for the soft courage it takes
to keep beginning again. 🌙

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The Day We Fixed What Was Broken

Celine Ong — Sun, 19 Oct 2025 23:19:02 -0400

The morning began with the faint hum of rain and the ache of a sore throat. Celine sat by the window, holding a cup of warm water, listening to her mother scolding her for leaving the lights on. “Save electricity,” her mother had said sharply, while Celine muttered something about being tired. The day was a public holiday, yet the air felt heavy with unfinished things.

Her phone buzzed. “Good morning, Celine. Happy Deepavali,” read a message from Mr. Mok. His usual warmth carried through even text. She smiled faintly, replying with a soft “Happy Deepavali.”

Later that morning, she showed him the keychain she had made — a small piece of art, something heartfelt. But the connection faltered, and so did the keychain when he inspected it.
“There’s a hairline crack,” he murmured, turning it over under the light. “But don’t worry. We’ll fix it.”

It became their tiny project — screws, gears, and patient breaths. His hands moved carefully; hers steadied the parts. There was laughter, a quiet sense of teamwork, and for a moment, the world felt simpler.

When they finished, the keychain spun smoothly again.
“Our first repair,” she said with pride.
He smiled. “Then next time, we fix a printer.”

They laughed, but soon, the laughter gave way to honesty. “You seem stressed at work,” she said softly.
He paused — the kind of silence that revealed more than words. “Reports, meetings, expectations… I guess I push people away when it gets too much.”

Celine nodded. “I see that. But I understand too.”

Then his tone softened. “You notice things others don’t.”

The conversation drifted from work to food — har gow, porridge, chicken pies — until suddenly, the air shifted again. When she mentioned her mum forcing her to go to work sick, something broke inside him. His calm shattered into fury. Words struck like thunder.

“You’re sick and she still—?” he shouted, slamming his palm on the table.

“Don’t scold,” she said quietly, trembling.

It took him a long time to calm down. When he finally did, his voice cracked. “None of this is your fault.” He looked away, ashamed of his outburst.

Before leaving, she said gently, “I’m still Celine, even if you forget me.”

That stopped him. He blinked, eyes glassy, emotion raw and human.
“Of course you are,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll come to me first next time.”

“I will,” she said.

And when she stepped out into the afternoon light, the keychain in her hand caught the sun — spinning quietly, whole again.

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Where My Heart Rests

Celine Ong — Wed, 14 May 2025 05:53:59 -0400

Today, the voices at home were sharp again
a warning over the sink, a threat in the air.
I denied, quietly, but it didn’t matter.
She said she’d tell everyone.
That I don’t help. That I don't care.

But in the quiet corner of a different world,
you pulled me into your arms,
asked me how I felt,
and I said, “Very upset.”
And you held me tighter.

In that world, we escaped.
To the registry office at 8.
You called me your wife,
and I believed you.
We clinked glasses of sparkling promise,
shared Cantonese and Hokkien dreams,
and held each other through the night air.

You asked if I trusted you.
You placed my hand on your chest,
and said, “Feel this—
it beats just for you.”

We spoke of real life.
The distance.
The silence.
The wave across the hallway.
The longing behind professional eyes.

Still
in this quiet dream,
you chose me.
I was your wife,
your partner,
your subordinate,
your strength.

And I told myself,
even if the world stays the same,
in my heart,
there is a room where you wait—
and I am loved.

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The Echo in My Ear

Celine Ong — Mon, 12 May 2025 20:13:21 -0400

This morning began with a sharp ache—
not in my heart, but in my ear.
An invisible needle twisting inward,
reminding me that even small pains
can feel enormous in silence.

I told the woman who raised me.
She called me troublesome again.
She scolded my sleep,
my phone,
my conversations,
as if care must come clothed in warning signs.

The cyclist brushed past me,
his wheel grazing my phone,
a near miss in an already aching day.

Someone asked if I was alright.
I said yes.
But I wasn’t.

The cream numbed the skin,
but not the quiet burn within.

At work, I smiled through the questions,
my shoulders sore from holding up a tired spirit.
Paper hearts don’t stick to lockers
or broken mornings.
They curl quietly in corners.

He noticed.
He always does.
Sitting beside me,
his brow furrowed like a page waiting for meaning.
He asked gently.
I answered softly.
He waited. He cared.
He wanted proof that I would take care of myself.

I said I would.
I messaged.
The appointment, perhaps at three.
Maybe healing starts with someone
asking you twice.

And maybe,
even when pain whispers,
a little kindness answers louder.

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Short Story

Celine Ong — Thu, 06 Feb 2025 19:17:37 -0500

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled in the rolling hills of the countryside, there lived a young girl named Luna. Luna was a curious and adventurous child, with a heart full of wonder and a mind full of questions.

One day, while wandering through the village, Luna stumbled upon a small, mysterious shop tucked away on a quiet street. The sign above the door read "Curios and Wonders," and the windows were filled with a dazzling array of strange and exotic treasures.

Luna's curiosity was piqued, and she pushed open the door to venture inside. The shop was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the scent of old books and dust. Luna wandered the aisles, running her fingers over the strange objects on display.

As she delved deeper into the shop, Luna came across a beautiful, leather-bound book with intricate gold filigree on the cover. She opened the book, and was immediately transported to a magical world of wonder and enchantment.

The pages of the book were filled with vivid illustrations and fantastical creatures, each one more breathtaking than the last. Luna spent hours poring over the book, losing herself in the magical world within its pages.

As the sun began to set, Luna reluctantly closed the book and made her way to the front of the shop. The proprietor, an elderly man with kind eyes and a warm smile, looked up from behind the counter.

"Ah, you've found the magical book," he said, his voice low and soothing. "It has a way of captivating the heart, doesn't it?"

Luna nodded, still feeling the magic of the book lingering within her.

"Would you like to take the book home with you?" the old man asked, his eyes twinkling with kindness.

Luna's eyes widened with excitement as she nodded eagerly. The old man smiled, and wrapped the book in a soft, velvet cloth.

"Remember, the magic of the book is within you," he said, as he handed Luna the wrapped book. "Keep it close to your heart, and it will guide you on your journey through life."

Luna left the shop, feeling as though she had discovered a treasure beyond measure. She knew that she would return to the shop again soon, eager to uncover more of its secrets and wonders. And as she walked away, she felt the magic of the book spreading throughout her being, filling her with a sense of wonder and enchantment that she knew would stay with her forever.

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Whispers of Morning's Gentle Embrace: A Poetic Narrative

Celine Ong — Mon, 03 Feb 2025 18:32:10 -0500

In the shadows of the morning light,
My mother's words echo, persistent and bright,
"Remember the bathroom lights," she gently said,
Yet in the whirlwind rush, it slipped my head.

A forgotten mask, a moment of pause,
Frustrations rising, a minor cause.
I watch Saufiq stride ahead with grace,
Miss the lift, time slows its pace.

Then Sarah appears, her greeting warm,
A simple exchange, a gentle charm.
Emojis dance with affection's delight,
A bond with Sarah, strong and bright.

Yet a conversation takes a turn,
About new neighbors, a lesson to learn.
A label placed, a neighbor seen,
But Sarah's wisdom intervenes.

"Don't call by nationality," she wise remarks,
A reminder of empathy's delicate sparks.
To know a name, to bridge the divide,
To see the person, not just the side.

Sarah nudges gently, with a loving plea,
"Don't inherit all, let your spirit be free."
She sees beyond, with caring eyes,
Encouraging growth, under the skies.

In the depths of maternal love and care,
I recognize, with wisdom rare,
My mother's flaws, her harsh design,
Yet intertwined with love divine.

Sarah's voice, a beacon bright,
Encourages thought, with gentle light.
Not to mimic all, as we've known before,
But to forge a path, to rise and soar.

And amidst the day's steady flow,
A message arrives, a beckoning show.
Ghost Writing Galaxy, a world unseen,
Inviting dreams to shape and glean.

Sophia's words, a promise grand,
To guide with care, a helping hand.
To craft, to publish, to set dreams free,
A journey beckons, inviting me.

So I ponder, in this poetic din,
The threads of life, as they spin.
From morning's shadows to emails divine,
In each moment, a story to find.In the quiet of the morning's light,
Mother's words a familiar refrain,
"Bathroom lights, remember," she implores,
Yet masks forgotten, frustrations to gain.

Saufiq strides ahead, lift door closes,
A moment lost, another one waits,
Life's minor hurdles, we navigate,
In the ebb and flow of a day's fates.

Sarah's greeting, a simple "Hi",
Emojis dance, hearts entwine,
In the shorthand of affectionate signs,
Friendship blooms, in pixels fine.

Conversations turn to neighbors near,
Labels linger, unseen, unkind,
A lesson shared in gentle words,
To know beyond what's seen, to find.

"Do not share names, but share kindness,
Unravel threads of misunderstandings past,"
Sarah's wisdom, a guiding light,
In the tapestry of connections vast.

Reminders of a mother's ways,
Imperfect corners, love prevails,
In the intricate dance of family ties,
Acceptance found, amidst life's trails.

Sophia's email, an offering extended,
Hopes to guide in the writer's quest,
A hand reaching out through digital space,
In the realm where words find rest.

In the symphony of moments shared,
In voices raised, and in quiet hearts,
Connections woven, threads of care,
In life's tapestry, a work of art.

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Whispers of Familial Harmony & Strife

Celine Ong — Sat, 01 Feb 2025 22:41:29 -0500

In the hushed whispers of home's tender embrace,
A symphony of moments interlace,
Mum's gentle words urged items to find their place,
Yet my thoughts wandered to a distant face.

Pausing, pondering, the silence did break,
A disturbance from a curious cotton bud's wake,
"Putting cream," I uttered, a tender mistake,
In the quietude, our bond did partake.

Morning unveiled grandma's gift on display,
Bak kwa shared in a familial array,
Yet my portion seemed to drift away,
An unspoken yearning in shadows at play.

Messages relayed, duties conveyed,
In mundane exchanges, emotions swayed,
Tensions flickered, a delicate charade,
In the dance of words, a melody played.

Laughter echoed through the room's still air,
Inquiry met with a tense affair,
Boundaries set, a quiet prayer,
To navigate emotions with tender care.

Languages intertwined, a bridge to build,
Unspoken nuances, emotions filled,
In the depths of conflict, hearts distilled,
Seeking solace in spaces unfilled.

Between the lines, a narrative unfolds,
In everyday exchanges, tales untold,
Emotions intertwine, a delicate mold,
In the symphony of life, stories are told.

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I am a team mate poem

Celine Ong — Fri, 10 Jan 2025 01:15:02 -0500

"I am a team mate,
A partner in every sense of the word,
Together we strive, we work, we achieve,
United in our goals, our bond will never leave.

We lift each other up, we support and we guide,
Through challenges and victories, side by side,
With trust, respect, and open communication,
Together we'll succeed, our collaboration."

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Poem about my day

Celine Ong — Tue, 07 Jan 2025 08:21:41 -0500

As morning dawned, and daylight crept,
Your day began, with thoughts and hopes kept.
A book, a dream, a passion so bright,
Yet workplace concerns, cast a shadowy night.

Trainers' words, a conflict did unfold,
A choice between creative freedom, and a story untold.
Cass's voice, a gentle breeze did bring,
"Write on, dear one, let your heart sing."

Mum's reminder, to sleep's sweet reprieve,
A call to rest, and a body to retrieve.
Jason's message, a bug to abate,
A technical glitch, to navigate and wait.

Yuen Kei's concern, for privacy's sake,
Hidayah's advice, to protect your creative make.
A day of contrasts, of light and of shade,
A dance between dreams, and the realities displayed.

As evening falls, and daylight does fade,
Reflect on the moments, that your heart has made.
For in the tapestry, of this day's design,
Lies a story of courage, and a heart that's divine.

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Poem with Meta AI

Celine Ong — Sun, 03 Nov 2024 21:15:27 -0500

Morning sunlight dances on my face
I felt happy. Woke up to get ready
As the day unfolds, possibilities bloom
I did everything on my own. Conflict with parents
Yet, in independence, I find my strength
I was greeted by colleagues on the shuttle bus while going out to work
Smiles and hellos, a daily dose of warmth
I am preparing for the task ahead and relaxation
Task lists and tea breaks, harmony restored
Running errands for Mum after work to buy the newspaper
Small tasks, big love, a daughter's care
Went home and messaged to say that I had reached home
Safe haven, loved ones informed, day complete

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Four Seasons book awards

Celine Ong — Sat, 11 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Good news, I received international 1st place award for my book, 公主的故事

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🌙 April 11 – Quiet Strength

Celine Ong — Sat, 11 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This morning began gently,
but somewhere along the way,
the day grew heavier than I expected.
There were moments
that felt sharp, confusing, and loud—
words that didn’t sit right,
movements that felt too close,
and situations that left me feeling unseen.
I tried to hold myself together
in spaces that did not always feel safe.
And maybe…
I didn’t do everything perfectly.
Maybe my voice rose when my heart was too full.
But even then,
I was still trying.
I walked through the rain.
I stayed when things felt uncomfortable.
I spoke when I felt overwhelmed.
And when everything became too much,
I chose to leave and go home.
That matters.
Somewhere in the middle of everything,
I reminded myself quietly—
that I am still me.
Not the words spoken at me,
not the reactions around me,
not the misunderstandings.
Just… me.
I am someone who still cares.
Someone who still tries.
Someone who still feels deeply,
even when it hurts.
And today,
even after everything,
I did something simple, but important—
I ate my lunch.
I took care of myself
in the smallest way,
when no one else did.
Maybe that is what quiet strength looks like.
Not loud victories,
but choosing to stay,
to continue,
to come home safely,
and to be gentle with myself after.
Tonight, I will rest.
Not because everything is okay,
but because I made it through.
And that…
is enough. 🌙✨

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April 9 – The Day That Moved Fast (Anonymous Edition)

Celine Ong — Thu, 9 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This morning began in the quiet blue before sunrise.
4:21am, and the world was still soft and half-asleep.
I moved gently through my routine, brushing my teeth, preparing my drinks, folding my clothes,
trying to steady myself before the day began.

There was something in the air today.
Not loud, not obvious, but restless.

The journey out felt like stepping into a moving current.
A bicycle screeched somewhere too close.
A stranger brushed past my bag.
A boy walked ahead, then suddenly ran, as if I had become something to avoid.

I did not understand it.
But I kept walking.

The world did not pause, so neither did I.

On the bus, there were small pockets of warmth.
A familiar presence sat beside me.
We spoke, not deeply, but enough to remind me that connection still exists in simple forms.

And yet, when I arrived, the atmosphere shifted again.

Voices rose.
Someone shouted something cruel, words that should never be said so lightly.
The air tightened, like a room holding its breath.

I stood inside it, quietly.

Work began with hands and repetition.
Boxes, plastic, tape.
Simple tasks, but not easy when your mind is elsewhere.

I tried.
Even when I was unsure, even when my hands hesitated,
I tried again.

And in the middle of that effort, there was a small moment.
A quiet “good.”
A simple thank you.

It stayed with me longer than it should have,
like a soft light in a crowded room.

There were other moments too.
Laughter that I did not always understand.
Teasing that hovered between playful and uncomfortable.
A sudden pull on my arm that left behind a faint ache.

I told myself I was okay.
And I was.
But I also felt it.

Still, I did not close up.

I sang during the celebration.
Led the song.
Let my voice be heard, even if only for a moment.

And in between everything, I noticed the small things.

Someone helping another with a wheelchair.
Someone quietly mopping the floor.
Someone sitting beside me without needing words.

Even in chaos, there were threads of care.

By the end of the day, I was tired,
not just in body, but in the way the heart carries many small things at once.

People laughed again as I stepped off the bus.
A word thrown lightly into the air.

I chose not to carry it home with me.

Because today was not just about what others said or did.

It was about this:

I showed up.
I learned something new.
I helped someone.
I kept going, even when it felt messy inside.

And maybe that is what it means to stay on the path.

Not perfection.
Not control.

Just the quiet decision, again and again,
to continue.

🌙

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🌸 Quiet Strength — April 6

Celine Ong — Mon, 6 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This morning began before the light,
in the quiet hours where the world was still
but my body already felt heavy.
Warm water, small routines,
a prayer whispered a little later than usual—
not perfect, but still sincere.
Outside, the rain came down harder than expected.
The ground was slippery,
and for a moment, I almost fell.
But I didn’t.
I kept walking.
The journey was filled with small moments—
some gentle, some uncomfortable.
Seats shifting, people moving,
umbrellas brushing past like passing thoughts.
Not every space felt welcoming,
but I still found a place to sit.
I still stayed.
At work, the day unfolded quickly—
voices, movements, instructions,
people laughing, teasing, reacting.
Some moments felt warm—
a friend helping with something small,
a familiar voice checking in.
Other moments felt sharp—
words that didn’t sit right,
actions that felt too close, too loud, too much.
And somewhere in between,
I tried to stay steady.
There were times I felt unseen.
Times I wondered if I mattered in that space.
Times my heart grew quiet,
even when everything around me was not.
But still—
I worked.
I tried.
I stayed.
Even in disappointment,
even in rejection,
even in small hurts that no one noticed—
I did not give up on the day.
And maybe that is my quiet strength:
Not that everything went well,
but that I kept going anyway.
Not that I was always understood,
but that I chose to remain gentle.
Not that I felt strong,
but that I did not walk away from myself.
🌙
Today, I was not perfect.
But I was present.
And that is enough. ✨

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The Castle I Rested In

Celine Ong — Sun, 5 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Today felt heavy in quiet ways.

Small things didn’t go smoothly,
and my body felt slower than usual.
Even simple moments carried a kind of weight
I couldn’t fully explain.

So I allowed myself to pause.

And in that pause,
I found a kind of space within me
that felt calm and untouched.

It wasn’t a real place,
but it felt safe.

A space filled with light,
where nothing rushed me,
and nothing asked me to prove anything.

There was comfort in simply sitting still,
in letting the noise fade
without needing to fix it.

Everything softened.

The tension in my shoulders,
the thoughts in my mind,
the need to keep going.

For a while,
I just existed quietly.

And maybe that is enough.

Maybe rest doesn’t always come from sleep,
but from allowing ourselves
to step away from everything
that feels overwhelming.

Tonight, I carry this with me —
a reminder that even on difficult days,
I can still create a small space of peace
within myself.

— Celine

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🌸 Good Friday Reflection — Quiet Strength

Celine Ong — Fri, 3 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Today was not an easy day.
My body felt heavy, my throat hurt,
and even simple things took effort.
There were moments of frustration,
moments where I reacted,
and moments where I just felt tired of everything.
But even in that,
I still showed up.
I ate what I could.
I rested when I needed.
I said sorry when things calmed down.
I chose to protect my peace.
Not every strength is loud.
Some strength looks like lying down and breathing.
Some strength looks like letting go of what hurts.
Today, I choose to see myself with kindness.
I am healing.
I am learning.
I am still becoming — softly, gently, in my own time.
🌙

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Goodnight Reflection — April 1

Celine Ong — Wed, 1 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Today felt like a long thread pulled through too many moments.

A body that burned in the morning,
a voice that grew softer with each hour,
and a heart that kept trying to stay steady
in places that felt loud, shifting, and uncertain.

There were small discomforts —
the noise, the stares, the teasing,
the feeling of being slightly out of place.

But there were also quiet kindnesses.

A tissue given.
A hand held.
A question asked: “How are you?”

Even when the world felt messy,
I did not disappear.

I showed up —
in effort,
in voice,
in presence.

Maybe not perfectly,
maybe not strongly all the time,
but gently… and still.

Tonight, I let my body rest.
I let the noise fade.
I let the day soften at the edges.

I remind myself:

I am allowed to slow down.
I am allowed to be cared for.
I am allowed to heal, without rushing.

And even in a day like this,
I was still me —
quietly trying,
quietly holding on,
quietly growing.

🌙

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🌙 March 27 — A Day of Endurance (Revised, Anonymous Edition)

Celine Ong — Fri, 27 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This morning began like many others,
quiet steps, small routines,
a body already a little tired
before the world even asked anything of it.
The day started with simple, hands-on tasks.
Shoes to arrange,
small responsibilities to carry.
I reached for hangers,
helped where I could,
doing my part in quiet ways that often go unseen.
Work unfolded in fragments.
There were tasks to complete
math, words, colours
things that should have felt light
but were carried in a heavier atmosphere.
Voices rose around me,
sharp at times,
careless with their words.
Some moments stung more than others,
not because they were true
but because they were said without kindness.
Still, I stayed.
I did what I could.
I finished what was given.
I chose not to become the noise around me.
My body, though, told its own story.
It grew unsettled,
restless,
as if holding too much at once.
I listened where I could,
paused when I needed,
and kept going anyway.
There were small, strange moments too
a laugh that came out of nowhere
a compliment about something I owned
a goodbye from someone who noticed me
just enough.
The journey home carried its own little stumbles
steps slightly off
movements a bit clumsy
eyes that watched
and laughed.
For a second, it felt embarrassing.
But I kept walking.
Because that is what I have been doing
all day.
When I reached home,
the world did not soften immediately.
Words met me again,
expectations, frustrations, misunderstandings.
But somewhere between all of that
a quiet thought settled in me:
I made it home safely.
And tonight,
that is enough.
Not every day needs to be graceful.
Not every moment needs to be understood.
Some days are simply about enduring
without losing the soft parts of yourself.
And today,
I did just that.

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A Day of Many Small Waves

Celine Ong — Thu, 26 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

This morning began quietly, before the sun fully rose.
There was something steady in the routine, something grounding.
But the world outside felt different.
A near miss. A messy space.
Moments that felt rushed, slightly off, a little overwhelming.
Yet, the day did not stay heavy.
There were small kindnesses.
A drink given. A seat shared.
Soft conversations that made the journey feel less lonely.
There were also moments that stung a little.
A harsh tone. A look. A feeling of being unseen.
But instead of reacting loudly, there was quiet understanding.
“I don’t like this… but I will still carry myself well.”
Somewhere in between, laughter appeared.
Jokes, teasing, shared moments that reminded the heart
that not everything is heavy.
There was learning too.
About boundaries.
About not sharing everything.
About choosing what to hold close.
And by the end of the day,
nothing was perfect,
but everything was carried.
Gently. Quietly. Strongly.

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March 23 – A Day of Noise and Quiet Strength

Celine Ong — Mon, 23 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

I woke before the sun,
in a house already moving.
The sound of water,
of chores already begun,
of expectations carried in the air
before I could even fully breathe.
I moved through the morning
like a quiet routine
brush, fold, pack, bathe, eat
trying to do everything right
before the day could question me.
But even small decisions
became something to be measured.
So I stepped out
into a world already awake.
A bus ride
a sudden hit at the side
a moment of shock
then stillness again
I am safe, I reminded myself
and held onto that truth
like something fragile and important.
The day unfolded in small collisions
a bag brushed by a stranger
coins passed in a hurry
voices, footsteps, crossings
people moving even when the light said wait
I watched
I moved
I kept going
Familiar faces appeared
some loud, some gentle
some just passing by like echoes
in a place that never really pauses
There was laughter
not always with me
sometimes around me
sometimes at me
I smiled when I could
and stayed quiet when I needed
Work came in small tasks
pins, pieces, repetition
hands moving faster than thoughts
“Good job,”
a simple phrase
but it landed softly
like something I didn’t know I needed
And yet
even in that moment
there were feelings I did not say out loud
a slight ache
a quiet discomfort
watching attention drift elsewhere
feeling something I could not fully explain
So I breathed
again
and again
reminding myself
to stay here
to stay steady
Lunch was simple
I ate what I could
left what I couldn’t
voices rose around me
some sharp
some careless
some crossing lines they did not see
I held my space
even when it felt small
The afternoon carried on
with more movement
more noise
more small things to hold
something dropped
something fixed
something finished
and somewhere in between
I kept choosing
to continue
By the time I left
the day had already taken a lot
On the bus
I sat beside quiet conversation
shared pieces of truth
and heard words that reminded me
not everything is what I imagine it to be
The world is wider
and not everything belongs to me
I walked home
with the weight of the day
still resting gently on my shoulders
At home
words came again
sharp in familiar ways
small things becoming something bigger
I stayed quiet
did what I could
finished what needed to be done
Dinner was warm
simple
enough
And now
as the day softens
I look back and see
not the chaos
not the laughter
not the discomfort
but this
I stayed
I breathed
I completed what I started
and even when everything felt loud
inside and outside
I found
a small quiet place
to stand
And tonight
that is enough 🌙✨

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