MissDerpDark

I never thought I'd discover something new about myself at 28. And yet, here I am. Learning. I've learned how I want to be loved. I've learned what I deserve. I've learned that my happiness doesn't need to borrow from anyone else. Maybe it sounds late, it probably is. But lately, I've been busy rediscovering myself. and honestly? I've been having so much fun. I have boundaries now, and I honor them. I have friends who love me, and I love them; deeply and fully. And somehow, my heart feels full. So full from loving myself, from being loved by my people. That I no longer feel the need to look for someone to fill in the gaps. I've been doing that for years in past loves, in the old versions of me. But not anymore. Now, I feel grounded. Secure. Content. And it's empowering. Like I'm finally the one holding the wheel of my own life. I don't know about the future, but I hope I carry this feeling with me and make it the standard for every love that ...

Here I am. 1 a.m. My body is asking for rest, but my eyes refuse to listen. There is something restless in me tonight, a quiet insistence, a realization still warm in my chest. This might be the first time I write about happiness without feeling like I'm betraying my pain. I haven't been okay lately. Life didn't fall apart. Only the part where love lives. Grief found me anyway. It settled into my days, made a home in my chest. I learned how to mourn without permission, how to ache without an ending. So I ran from it. I built routines like walls. I tried to rewire my thoughts, distract my heart, outrun the feeling. Anything, as long as I didn't have to sit with it. I wouldn't have survived this without my friends. They didn't try to fix me. They didn't rush my healing. They simply stayed. They let me spill the same stories, again and again, like repetition might finally soften the truth. They celebrated the smallest victories. "Today, I washed the dishe...

Saw a house in flames. So I ran in, dressed for rescue, hands full of good intentions. I thought courage was enough. I thought preparation was enough. But what is saving, if the soul inside does not want to be saved? I burned myself trying to save a burning house. Now I wonder was it ever mine to carry? Was there ever a fire, or only smoke I imagined? Was this the right armor, or was I fighting the wrong kind of danger? Was it not enough? Or was I not enough?