𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼

In a world full of people who are quick to judge me for what they hear or see — without ever truly knowing me — I feel lucky to have my man, Patrick. He’s the one who took the time to understand me, who listens when I’m not in my zone, and who reminds me that my voice matters even when I struggle to believe it myself. Being vulnerable isn’t easy. I’m scared of judgment, of being called too expressive, too emotional, immature, or reactive. I’ve been told those things more times than I can count, and honestly, I don’t think I can take another negative review of my character. It weighs on me, and sometimes it feels like the world only sees the surface, never the soul underneath. Yesterday, I broke down crying. I realized I don’t feel my spark anymore. I don’t feel my soul inside me. The things that used to bring me joy: my hobbies, my little rituals, even the simple moments,  feel distant. Since December 2025, I’ve been living in autopilot mode, just going through the motions without ...

I  was born too late to witness the popularity of the band, The Beatles. I used to listen to my Mommy talking about them and how great they were until fame got into their heads and then they disbanded. Now, I'm not going to talk about the band's history and deminse — I'm here to talk about their songs. How it calms my nerves and pause all the thoughts going in and out of my head. There’s something magical about the way their music flows; simple yet profound, playful yet deeply emotional. Songs like Let It Be and Hey Jude feel like gentle reminders to breathe, to let go, and to trust that everything will be alright. Their harmonies carry me into a space where worries fade, and I’m left with a quiet sense of peace. Listening to The Beatles isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s about connection. Even though I wasn’t there during their rise, their music bridges generations. It’s as if every note carries a piece of history, yet still speaks directly to the present moment. For me, T...