Every entry, held quietly.

To the friend I still haven't called back, It isn't you. It's that I don't have the language yet for what I'm sitting with, and I can hear the questions inside your kindness. I will call. I promise. But first I'm trying…

To the version of me from a year ago, I know why you kept quiet. It wasn't weakness. It was hope wearing your face, whispering that tomorrow would feel a little softer. I forgive you for the nights you rehearsed apologie…