Here’s a short piece titled — written as a reflective, lyrical monologue. "Older 4 Me"
So here I am — not wiser, exactly. Just softer in some hard places, and harder in the soft ones that used to break. Older 4 me means I finally stopped asking “Am I too much?” and started asking “Does this love — this life — have room for all of me?” older 4 me
I used to think older meant settled. Like a house that's stopped settling — creaks forgiven, floors finally flat. But now I'm here, and older feels less like an arrival and more like a slow, quiet undoing. Here’s a short piece titled — written as
Sometimes I miss the reckless bloom of younger hunger. But I don't miss the begging. Not anymore. Now, I'd rather be too much for the wrong room than just enough for a cage I painted gold. Older 4 me means I finally stopped asking “Am I too much