Through the Fog

Tag: feeling deeply

  • Sentimental Bullshit

    Call it sentimental bullshit—

    that soft, overused language

    people reach for

    when something real

    makes them uncomfortable.

    Love.

    Hope.

    Healing.

    Words that get dismissed

    the second they stop being easy.

    Like feeling deeply

    is something to outgrow.

    Like caring too much

    is a flaw

    instead of a risk.

    I’ve tried

    to strip it all down—

    make myself quieter,

    less affected,

    less invested

    in things that don’t stay.

    Told myself

    it’s better this way.

    Cleaner.

    Safer.

    No expectations.

    No disappointment.

    No reason to feel

    anything at all.

    But numb

    isn’t the same

    as strong.

    And pretending

    none of it mattered

    doesn’t make it true.

    Because even now—

    under all the doubt,

    all the cynicism,

    all the ways I’ve tried

    to harden—

    there’s still something there.

    Something stubborn.

    Something that refuses

    to turn into nothing

    just because it got hurt.

    So call it

    sentimental bullshit

    if you need to.

    I know what it is.

    It’s the part of me

    that still believes

    something real

    is worth feeling—

    even if it doesn’t last.

  • I’ve Been Known to Cross Lines

    I’ve been known

    to cross lines—

    not the ones painted on roads,

    but the invisible ones

    people draw around themselves

    and call safety.

    I don’t always see them

    until I’ve already stepped over,

    already said too much,

    felt too deeply,

    stayed too long

    or left too soon.

    They say I blur things—

    boundaries,

    meanings,

    the space between what’s allowed

    and what’s real.

    Maybe I do.

    Maybe I’ve spent too long

    living in places

    where lines kept moving,

    where rules changed

    depending on who was watching.

    So I learned

    to trust instinct

    over permission,

    feeling over distance,

    truth over comfort.

    And yeah—

    sometimes that costs me.

    Sometimes I lose people

    who needed things cleaner,

    clearer,

    easier to define.

    But I was never built

    for neat edges.

    I exist

    in the in-between—

    where things are messy,

    honest,

    alive.

    So if I cross a line,

    it’s not always rebellion.

    Sometimes

    it’s just me

    refusing to pretend

    I don’t feel

    what I feel.