a place to rest

The days are getting hotter; sunlight blares in with all its might, turning my room muggy by 8 AM. Not complaining. Everything is quiet, and I spend time making art, playing my guitar, and letting my thoughts settle.

Trying to be resilient — one day at a time. Not rushing. Just showing up, being present, doing the work. Some days feel long, but I trust that I am where I need to be.

Learning to sit with discomfort instead of fighting it, to accept what I cannot control, and to trust that even slow progress is still progress.

I don’t suppress the hard days, but I don’t let them dictate the course of my life either. Some things are worth feeling deeply, and some things are simply noise. I’m learning to tell the difference. Some days are quieter than others, but solitude is not emptiness. Even in stillness, there is something to hold onto.

Solitude teaches patience, and patience shapes what I create. I practice, I create, I learn. And though the days are often quiet, I remind myself that being alone doesn’t mean being lost.

People come and go, like shadows shifting with the sun, but I keep moving. I don’t know where this path leads, but I’m learning to trust the journey. For now, I let things unfold, slow and steady.