Have you ever found yourself justifying the way someone treats you—even when you know it hurts? Maybe someone yelled at you, insulted you, or betrayed your trust, but instead of feeling angry or setting a boundary, your mind starts searching for excuses. “Maybe they’re having a bad day,” or “Maybe they’re going through something hard.” And suddenly, the pain feels lighter because you’ve taken on their burden instead of your own. I used to think this was a good thing. That being understanding, empathetic, and forgiving was a strength. But as I’ve grown, I realize it’s been hurting me more than helping. Here’s my truth: I recently ended a seven-year relationship—one filled with love but also with pain, betrayal, and confusion. I thought I was making the right choice because she flirted with other guys, even during some of the darkest moments of my life. But despite knowing why I ended it, my mind keeps playing tricks on me. Why? Because I have a trait where I justify others’ b...
There’s a kind of love that’s deeper than words. The kind where, when they hurt, you’d do anything— anything —to take their place. You see them in pain, and somehow, you start apologizing… saying you’re sorry for what they’re going through, even though it’s not your fault. Because they don’t deserve an ounce of it. That’s the love I had for Empress. My sister. My best friend. My person. When she first fell ill, it didn’t seem serious. It was “just anemia,” they said. We all thought she’d be fine in a couple weeks— she thought so too. But weeks went by, and she didn’t get better. I remember the day she left home to get admitted. I cried so much, I made myself sick the next day. I cried with one prayer on my lips: “God, if anything is going to happen to her, take me instead.” And I meant every word. A world without my sister wasn’t a world I wanted to live in. We argued a lot—don’t get it twisted—but no one had my back like her. No one knew me l...
We all deal with grief in different ways. Some turn to alcohol. Some to food. Some to silence. And others—like me—turn to distraction. We throw ourselves into projects, hobbies, or work that makes the pain feel just a little quieter. Mine is this blog. It’s my outlet, my therapy, my escape, my hope. I tell myself, “If this blog works… if it finally becomes something real… then maybe I’ll feel better. Maybe I’ll finally breathe again.” But I’m still in that in-between place. Still waiting. Still hoping. Still hurting. Every day I wake up and remind myself: “I’m building something. I’m not doing nothing. I’m trying.” Yes, I miss them— My sister. My brother. My father. Some days it feels unbearable. But I believe… That if this blog takes off, I won’t just be financially okay… I’ll be emotionally lighter too. The pain won’t vanish, but maybe… just maybe… it won’t scream as loud anymore. I want this blog to reach someone — Someone grieving, someone broken, someone se...
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