Today I Realized

Today I realized…

... That beautiful memories do not demand forgetting. They only ask to be touched gently, like a scar you’ve come to love.

... That Marlboro Gold tastes like dried sweet potato leaves—bitter, earthy, the kind of disappointment that reminds you you're still alive. Some truths don’t burn, they just wither.

... That silence is not emptiness. It's where wisdom blooms in the corners of the mouth that chose not to speak. There is grace in the unsaid.

... That too much care can drown the very thing you love. Like the stargazer lily I tried to keep alive—I watered it with good intentions, smothered it with tenderness. But love, without listening, kills softly. The wilt was not betrayal. It was instruction.

... That no matter how tightly you hold your pain behind a smile, someone will always see through it. Soulmates are not just found—they are the ones who see you and don’t flinch. You can’t wear masks around them. They were never fooled to begin with.

... That greetings carry the same ache as goodbyes. That "hi" can tremble just as much as "farewell."

... That I can put out a cigarette I just lit—sometimes, we start things we don’t need to finish.

... That my writing births a kind of sorrow. Not because it's sad, but because it's true.

... That the roses I ignored—the ones I barely watered—were the first to bloom. Some things grow stronger without our meddling.

... That sipping hot coffee at the exact moment a sneeze creeps in is less comedic timing and more an act of divine mockery. Regret, hot and immediate.

... That sucking it up is better than sucking it in. One builds endurance; the other builds pressure.

... That forgiveness only becomes real when you first forgive yourself. Preachy? Maybe. Necessary? Absolutely.

... That schadenfreude is actually a word. Not just a word but It’s a mirror to the cruel grin we hide under civility—the smirk at someone else's stumble.

... That it’s easier to explain schadenfreude than to spell it—and I’m still astonished that such a word even exists. But then again, so does cruelty.

... …That always is a lie we whisper to fragile hearts. We speak of forever the way children speak of stars—pointing at something they'll never touch, needing it to be real, even if it never was.

And maybe that's the most human thing we do: 

believe in permanence, 

even as everything around us is breaking quietly, 

beautifully, 

like the sound of a flower blooming where no one is watching.