The Lost Art of Romance
Perhaps romance was never really about grand gestures, but the quiet intention behind them. The handwritten letters, the flowers given without reason, the anticipation of seeing someone again. I wonder when we became so afraid of loving deeply that we began treating one another as replaceable. We have never had so many ways to find love, and yet I sometimes wonder if we have forgotten what it means to truly cherish it.
The Country We Inherited.
I was born five months after the world changed, into a country still grieving a tragedy I would spend my childhood being taught to never forget. But when I think about the America I grew up loving, I don’t think about politics or presidents. I think about small-town parades, bicycles in the neighborhood, and afternoons at the ballpark surrounded by familiar faces. I think about a time when belonging felt ordinary. At twenty-four, I find myself mourning not the America that existed before I was born, but the America I once believed we could become.
Of Souls and Other Things
I’ve always felt that there are things in this world we aren’t meant to fully understand. I’ve questioned whether the people we meet are strangers at all, whether our souls carry pieces of lives we’ve already lived, and whether the universe has a way of guiding us without us even realizing it. My spirituality has never been about having all the answers. It’s about the things I’ve experienced, the connections I’ve felt, and the belief that there’s something greater than the life we’re living now. I don’t know what comes next, but I believe our energy, in some way, continues long after we’re gone.
The Art of Being Known
I think there’s something beautiful about the fact that we can spend our entire lives knowing someone and still have so much left to discover about them. We’re constantly changing, growing, and becoming different versions of ourselves, and I don’t think we’re meant to understand every little part of another person. I’ve learned to be more careful with who I let into my world, not because I have anything to hide, but because some parts of me are simply too personal to share with everyone. And maybe that’s what makes being truly known so special. It’s not about someone knowing everything there is to know about you, but about having people in your life who genuinely care enough to keep learning.
The Age of Almost
There is a peculiar kind of grief in growing older and realizing that the life you imagined for yourself is not quite the one you’re living. At twenty-four, I am learning that becoming someone means leaving behind all the people I thought I would be.
On the Permanence of Absence
On grief, growing older, and the quiet realization that losing someone means learning to live every version of your life without them.