🌙 Continued: The Year I Waited for Something Softer

 

I didn’t bake.
I didn’t write.
I didn’t glow.

I cried myself to sleep more times than I admitted.
I watched the days blur past like pages I couldn’t read.
I waited for 2024 like it was a rescue boat —
hoping it would carry me somewhere gentler.

There were no grand gestures.
No healing rituals.
Just me, lying in bed,
wondering if being overlooked meant I was invisible.

But here’s the quiet truth:
Even when I felt like nothing was happening,
something was.

I was surviving.
I was feeling.
I was learning how to sit with the ache
without rushing to fix it.

And maybe that’s what Luna does too —
not always glowing,

but staying lit enough to say:
“I’m still here.”

So if 2023 felt like a cloud that forgot how to rain,
maybe 2024 is the year I learn to dance in the dry spell.
Not because the storm passed,
but because I did.