There are things I no longer touch,
not because they were evil,
but because they asked too much of me.
I learned that devotion is not loud.
It is a daily returning.
It is choosing to stay when leaving would be easier.
I am not interested in escape.
I want to feel the texture of my days.
I want to notice when my breath changes,
when my hands steady,
when my joy arrives without asking permission.
Some nights I miss the blur.
Most days I am grateful for the sharpness.
If you are here, reading this slowly,
you already understand what it means
to guard something tender inside yourself.
If something here helps you breathe, keep it.
If you are here, you were meant to be addressed.
— Alice
