Damn, Alex. I could feel the rage emanating from the screen. It’s the first time I’ve seen your words carry this kind of edge. There’s something about how you wrote this that cuts deep.
Wherever this came from, I hope you’re doing alright 🖤
I have to be honest, I like seeing this side of you, though I hate that it came at such a cost. There’s something powerful in your honesty, when you let the ache speak without trying to make it make sense.
I hope being in that space gives you whatever it is you need 🖤
Alex—I see you. I can feel the rage and the pain in your words.
This feels like the kind of reclamation that only comes when you’ve reached your limit. There’s a specific kind of pain in letting someone all the way in… only to have them walk away.
I’ve felt that too—that moment when you realize they couldn’t meet you in the fire. They couldn't appreciate ALL of you.
Sometimes the only way through is to let it burn.
And what rises from the ashes is truth. Your truth.
Celebrating your courage as you stand at what feels like a potent threshold. 💚
Damn, Alex. I could feel the rage emanating from the screen. It’s the first time I’ve seen your words carry this kind of edge. There’s something about how you wrote this that cuts deep.
Wherever this came from, I hope you’re doing alright 🖤
You’re right to feel it — it was a different edge.
Not rage for its own sake… but something that had been waiting far too long to be named.
I won’t lie — I’m not fully alright.
But I’m not lost either.
There’s a strange kind of calm that comes
once you stop trying to dress the wound as wisdom.
Once you let the ache just be,
without trying to make it poetic or palatable.
That’s where I’m standing.
Not healed. Not collapsed. Just… honest.
Thank you for seeing me in that place.
It matters more than I can say.
I have to be honest, I like seeing this side of you, though I hate that it came at such a cost. There’s something powerful in your honesty, when you let the ache speak without trying to make it make sense.
I hope being in that space gives you whatever it is you need 🖤
Alex—I see you. I can feel the rage and the pain in your words.
This feels like the kind of reclamation that only comes when you’ve reached your limit. There’s a specific kind of pain in letting someone all the way in… only to have them walk away.
I’ve felt that too—that moment when you realize they couldn’t meet you in the fire. They couldn't appreciate ALL of you.
Sometimes the only way through is to let it burn.
And what rises from the ashes is truth. Your truth.
Celebrating your courage as you stand at what feels like a potent threshold. 💚
Jennifer — thank you for witnessing the threshold, though I’ll be honest… this one no longer needs tending.
Some fires are meant to reduce—not preserve.
I’ve walked back through the smoke,
picked up what still hummed with truth,
and left the rest to ash.
There was love.
And there was pain.
And then there was the remembering:
that I do not need to split myself in order to be held.
That kind of clarity doesn’t rage.
It just rises.