Kirsten, this is one of those pieces that makes you stop mid-scroll and just sit in it. You captured the exact purgatory of heartbreak where you’re technically surviving, but everything feels a little too loud, a little too empty. The way you move between numbness, anger, and tiny acts of care (even if they look like chaos) is so painfully human. That last line hit like a brick: ‘I don’t want the fantasy of love anymore. I just want peace.’ That’s the truest thing I’ve read all week. Thank you for writing from the wound, even when it’s still bleeding.✨
I really appreciate your honesty about the 'Right Now I’m a Saddie, Not a Baddie' playlist. It takes courage to create and commit to that kind of ritual to sit there and consciously invite the emotion back in through those songs. And that memory of them riding passenger, singing with you, is a perfect, bittersweet detail
Kirsten, this is one of those pieces that makes you stop mid-scroll and just sit in it. You captured the exact purgatory of heartbreak where you’re technically surviving, but everything feels a little too loud, a little too empty. The way you move between numbness, anger, and tiny acts of care (even if they look like chaos) is so painfully human. That last line hit like a brick: ‘I don’t want the fantasy of love anymore. I just want peace.’ That’s the truest thing I’ve read all week. Thank you for writing from the wound, even when it’s still bleeding.✨
Thank you for seeing me 🥺💕
I really appreciate your honesty about the 'Right Now I’m a Saddie, Not a Baddie' playlist. It takes courage to create and commit to that kind of ritual to sit there and consciously invite the emotion back in through those songs. And that memory of them riding passenger, singing with you, is a perfect, bittersweet detail
Thank you. I appreciate it ☺️
oh wow