BLOSSOM GRAM

Hey you, Yes, you. It’s easier for me to write this here than to confront you — again — about it. Sometimes, I wonder why it always feels like everything is stacked against us.  Why? Something always happens. And somehow... we’re the ones sabotaging what could be — because of all the fears, and the wounds we’ve collected over the years. What frustrates me most is how we took all those feelings — those real, complicated, beautiful feelings — and swept them under the rug. Or worse, dumped them in the so-called “water under the bridge.” Yes, maybe it’s wrong. But it also feels so right. Isn’t there even a part of you — however small — that wants to risk it? To see how far we could go? It could be the most beautiful thing that ever happens to us. Or... the messiest. But still — wouldn’t it be worth finding out? If you're not the one for me, Then how come I can bring you to your knees? If you're not the one for me, Why do I hate the idea of being free? ...

  Hey you, Yes, you. It’s been a while. I’ve been ignoring you — not out of malice, but because I keep falling, stumbling through the lessons of life. But the last couple of months, They’ve been beautiful. I write this with a laugh as Ivy by Leon Bridges plays in the background. I’m making spaghetti, the music’s looping, and I don’t mind one bit. Honestly, all I really need is you . You know that feeling after spending time with someone you love — where time seems to slow down and the world fades out? When you catch yourself smiling, fully present, completely unaware of everything else around you? I’m in that moment. And I love it here. For some context — I made a lot of mistakes when it came to love while growing up. I think we all do. But now that I’m older, I’m learning not to repeat them. I try — sincerely. Life keeps throwing new challenges, and I keep meeting them, slowly learning to respond instead of react. I love who I am becoming. I’ve always been a lover, and no...

Hey you, Whenever I’m asked if I have a “type,” I usually shrug and say,  not really . I’ve always liked them different — could be how she walks, how she holds her purse, how she articulates her words, how she does the simplest things with her own flair. I’ve never chased after body types or skin colors (okay, fine — younger me didn’t yet understand the  excellence  that comes with dark-skinned women). So yeah, I tend to say I don’t have a type. But I do. Funny thing is — I just realized this. So we’re discovering it together. All the women who’ve truly been my type? They’ve had one thing in common: they’ve moved on from me. Ouch, I know. It sounds tragic, maybe even a little poetic. But let me explain. See, I tend to mess up. That’s on me. I’ll own that. I’ve made poor choices, and now, I’m living with the echoes of my early twenties. I’m older now — orbiting the higher spaces of my late twenties — but I still carry the weight of that younger version of me. The one who w...

Dearest Reader, Are there days you wake up and feel as though you have no love inside of you? It's not like you don't love others or yourself, but you have no love. You see the flaws in people, then flaws in yourself and your surroundings, but have no idea about how to change it, so you sit there in silence, internalizing everything happening around you, and in you, then you move on from it. Well, moving on from it is the idea I tend to have most of the time, but I try to think happy thoughts. But today I thought to myself, have I ever explored this side of me? This unloving side, not hateful but unloving. It was a holiday, but I'm unemployed, so every day is a holiday, but today was a holiday holiday and I just sat in my house, lay in my bed, made tea, stared out the window, and now it's evening. I was just thinking and having conversations with myself about life, really. Okay, I'll give you a fast boot about what's been happening. I woke up one day and...