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The Faces of Him

Some people age before our eyes, not because of time—but because of the weight of what they withhold. This poem captures the haunting beauty of watching a man flicker between who he is, who he was, and who he almost let himself become.
A soul-level observation of a man seen in his vulnerability and his retreat—this poem captures the quiet ache of witnessing someone split by silence.

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It’s Messy, But It’s Healing

Healing isn’t pretending to be calm, it’s about embracing the chaos, the triggers, the tears and the discomfort — allowing it all to surface, because that’s where real growth begins.

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