My Silent Wish

One day, I hope I wake up to a love that holds me and cares for me.
A love so deep that the thought of me hurting hurts them too.

I want a love that grounds me when my head is in the clouds.
A softness so gentle that it teaches me how to be softer too.
I want laughter, understanding, closeness.
I want to wake up feeling like there is nothing wrong with me.

But maybe the nightmare is not the world around me.
Maybe the nightmare is me asleep inside of it.

For so long, I have felt trapped —
like I’ve been fighting a wall, begging for change, trying to force understanding.
I kept searching for something in him that I have not fully given to myself.

The change I need does not only live inside of him.
It lives inside of me.

I need to wake up from the fog I have been conditioned into.
The fog that made me feel minimized, unseen, and disconnected.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot he is human.
And somehow, I forgot that I am too.

I am a teacher.
I am a healer.
I influence people with my words, my energy, my presence.

If I can connect with strangers,
if I can make impossible things possible,
then maybe I can do this too.

Maybe we can.

Because the truth is, I do not want to keep living distant and harsh when all I truly crave is softness.
I want to give the love I need.
I want to hurt when they hurt.
I want understanding instead of defense.
Connection instead of survival.

I miss myself.

I miss knowing who I am underneath all of this fear, anger, confusion, and noise.

My mom always said I was an angry kid.
But somewhere along the way, I became soft too.

So when did the anger begin?
And when did I stop feeling safe enough to be gentle?

I think part of healing is realizing that if I ache to be seen and understood,
the people I love probably ache for that too.

Maybe we are all just trying to wake up.

And maybe one day, I will.

To something warm.
Something honest.
Something soft.

And maybe one day, I will.

Until then, this is my silent wish.

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