Carmy Favorite on Suente

She Was Built For a Lifetime

Thu, 12 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0300

She wasn’t built to be a little girl. she was born to be a great woman. she was way too smart to be played by those older than her since a young age, too sharp to fall for the kind of hollow love that forms between people only because they are afraid of being alone. she wasn’t born to be a girlfriend. she was born to be a wife.

A girlfriend is a status that people might take as something temporary, something that can end after a year or two and leave no mark. but I bet her heart won’t accept that idea. it won’t accept loving someone for a temporary time, it was never wired that way. she never let somebody in because she was never sold on the idea of talking to someone and then leaving them. she never met a person who made her feel she wanted to keep them, not until she did. her heart is hard to love, and her love is hard to own. and I was the lucky man to have it.

Before I'm Fully Awake

Wed, 04 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0300

There are a few minutes, right before I am fully awake, where I am not asleep but not yet present either. that thin space between. and in that space, without choosing it, without summoning it, you arrive.

Not as an image. I don’t picture your face or construct a scene. it is softer than that and more total. it is your name. your entity. the simple fact of you, sitting in my head before my eyes have adjusted to the light. and I start talking. not to you exactly, more like about you, to myself, the way you speak when no one is listening and the words don’t need to perform for anyone. I tell myself how much I love you. I tell myself how strange and full it feels to carry this. it is not a conversation. it is closer to a confession I keep making to no one, every morning, maybe because I have not yet found a better place to put it.

She Finally Feels Safe

Wed, 04 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0300

I have never put this as a goal. I never wrote it down or said it out loud as something I was working toward. but somehow, persistently, it was always there. I just didn’t have the words for it until today.

I have hurt her. out of the specific kind of cowardice that looks like running. every time I left, I told myself some version of a story that made it feel justified, manageable, survivable. but she was the one left holding what I dropped. and when I finally came back, six months ago, and committed to staying, I could see it in our conversations, sometimes in what she said directly, more often in what she was careful not to say. she was still afraid. still watching the door. still waiting for the version of me she had learned to expect, the one who disappears.

She Spoke My Language

Wed, 04 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0300

Everyone wanted something from me. not maliciously, not always consciously, but the wanting was there in every interaction, a quiet demand underneath the warmth. love me back. see me. choose me. match what I am giving you. and I could feel it every time, the pressure of someone trying to pull a response out of me that I did not yet know how to give. I was not withholding. I was genuinely not there yet. and the harder they pulled, the further I went.