SoulForge_V4_1_Clean_432_MASTERED_48k_24b BV

I keep a list in my phone of the small stuff that keeps going sideways— jacket zipper stuck halfway up, a receipt gone damp in my back pocket, the train doors shutting right as I hit the platform. I used to think that meant something. Like the universe had an opinion. Like every locked door was aimed at me. But most days, it’s just life being clumsy. Coffee on the counter. Keys in the freezer. A text I meant to send sitting there unsent while my thumb hovers over it like that will change anything. So I learned to stop calling every bruise a lesson. To stop asking the mirror for a different face. To let the room be messy. To let my hands shake and still open the email. Still make the call. Still show up with my name stuck in my throat and say it anyway. Because maybe strength is not the big speech. Maybe it’s just this: standing in the doorway, half-dressed, holding a bag of groceries that’s leaking oranges, wiping one off on my jeans and carrying the rest to the sink.