Through the Fog

Tag: you matter

  • No One Determines Our Worth

    Photo Credit-Aleksey Kuprikov

    No one determines our worth—

    not the ones who doubted us,

    not the ones who left,

    not the ones who tried to shrink us

    into something quieter

    so they could feel louder.

    We are not defined

    by the people who couldn’t see us.

    We are not measured

    by the moments that broke us.

    We are not small

    just because someone else

    was afraid of our size.

    Our worth was carved into us

    long before the world decided

    to name our scars.

    It lives in our survival,

    in our softness,

    in the way we rise again

    even when the ground trembles.

    No one determines our worth—

    we do.

    We rewrite the story,

    we choose the truth,

    we decide who we are

    and who we refuse

    to ever be again.

    And if anyone tries

    to tell you otherwise,

    let them talk.

    Let them underestimate.

    Let them watch you grow

    into everything they swore

    you’d never become.

    Because here’s the secret

    they never wanted us to know:

    our worth is ours.

    Untouched.

    Unbroken.

    Undeniable.

    And we don’t need permission

    to rise.

  • These Words Are All I Have

    Photo Credit-Bas Glaap

    These words are all I have—

    the only way I know

    to bleed without breaking,

    to speak without shattering

    the pieces I’m still holding together.

    I can’t hand you my heart

    without it trembling,

    can’t show you my scars

    without feeling them reopen,

    so I write instead—

    hoping you hear the truth

    hiding between the lines.

    These words are all I have

    when my voice won’t steady,

    when the ache in my chest

    is louder than anything I could say.

    So I offer them softly,

    quiet as a confession,

    fragile as a prayer—

    hoping you’ll read them

    and understand

    that everything I feel

    is here on the page,

    because it’s the only place

    I’m not afraid

    to let it live.

  • Know That You Are Loved

    (Even If You Don’t Love Yourself)

    Know that you are loved

    even if you don’t love yourself,

    even if the mirror feels like a stranger

    and your own heartbeat sounds borrowed.

    Know that you are held

    in ways you can’t always see —

    in whispered prayers,

    in the quiet hope someone sends your way

    when you don’t even realize you need it.

    You are loved

    in the way dawn forgives the night,

    in the way a bruised sky still softens at sunrise,

    in the way life keeps giving you

    one more breath to try again.

    You don’t have to earn it.

    You don’t have to feel it.

    You don’t have to understand why.

    Just know this:

    on the days you’re breaking,

    on the days you’re numb,

    on the days you look at yourself

    and can’t find a single reason to stay—

    someone out there

    is grateful that you’re here,

    is rooting for your healing,

    is carrying the love

    you can’t yet carry for yourself.

    And until you can feel it —

    let that be enough.

  • I Never Want to Leave This World Without Saying I Love You

    I think about how fragile life really is—

    how it slips between moments,

    how days turn into memories

    before we even realize we’re living them.

    And it hits me:

    I never want to move through this world

    quietly holding back the one thing

    that has always mattered most.

    I never want to leave this place

    without saying I love you.

    Not because I’m planning on going anywhere,

    not because I’m standing at any edge—

    but because this life is unpredictable,

    and the people who matter

    deserve to hear the truth

    while they’re still here to hold it.

    I love you

    in the simple ways,

    the human ways—

    in the way your voice steadies me,

    in the way your presence softens the noise,

    in the way something inside me

    finally feels understood.

    I love you

    in the ways I’ll never say out loud enough—

    in the small gratitude between heartbeats,

    in the quiet comfort of knowing

    you exist in the same world as me.

    If today were ordinary

    or extraordinary,

    if it were the first day

    or the last—

    I’d still want you to know.

    So hear it now,

    in case time gets away from me again:

    I love you.

    Not as a goodbye,

    but as a promise

    to speak the truth

    while it still has the chance

    to reach you.

  • Once… She Wrote a Poem

    Photo Credit: Nik

    Once, she wrote a poem.

    Not for love,

    not for beauty,

    but because the ache inside her

    needed somewhere to go.

    She didn’t write to be understood—

    she wrote to stay alive.

    Each word a pulse,

    each line a breath she wasn’t sure she’d take otherwise.

    The paper never judged her.

    It didn’t tell her to move on

    or to smile more.

    It just listened

    and held her pain like it mattered.

    She wrote about the ghosts she carried,

    the nights that wouldn’t end,

    the kind of loneliness

    that made her forget her own name.

    And when she finished,

    she didn’t feel healed—

    but she felt seen.

    Even if only by the page.

    Now, when she looks back,

    she doesn’t just see ink—

    she sees survival.

    She sees a girl

    who refused to let silence

    be the last word.

    Once, she wrote a poem.

    And maybe that was the moment

    she began to come back to life.

  • The Good That Happens

    Photo credit: Dewang Gupta

    Sometimes nothing good happens to you because you’re the good that happens to others.

    It doesn’t mean you’re forgotten or unlucky — it just means your presence is the quiet miracle in someone else’s story.

    You may never see the way your kindness changes a day, or how your words soften the edge of someone’s breaking point. You might not notice the peace you leave behind when you walk away — but it lingers, even when you don’t.

    Maybe that’s what being good really is.

    Not a reward, not recognition, but the small, unseen ways your existence steadies the world around you.

    And maybe one day, when you least expect it, something good will find you — not because you went searching, but because the world finally circles back to remind you that your light has always mattered.