I write.
Not to impress. Not for fun.
I write because I often don’t know how to say the things I carry in my heart, but I can write them.
And when I write, I feel every single word.
I write for my people. For those who matter.
I cook.
But not for everyone. I don’t take initiative easily, so if I’ve ever cooked for you, just know…
you’re damn special to me.
Only a few have tasted that kind of love from my kitchen.
I gift.
Not store bought, not casual.
I gift what I make, with my hands, my time, my love.
I learn things just to create something meaningful.
And again, only a few people in my life have ever received those pieces of me.
I listen. I talk. I think about you.
I don’t share my world with everyone.
If you’re on my “only view” status list or saved in my contacts, you matter.
I have only about 15-20 numbers saved, because I don’t save people for their use.
I save them because they mean something to me.
Not for what they can provide in a crisis, but for who they are, always.
I hug.
This might surprise you, because I’m not a touchy person.
In fact, I don’t even like being touched much.
But I hug, and when I do, it’s intentional.
If I initiate a hug, you are undoubtedly one of my people.
I will never neglect someone’s embrace, but those I pull in first, they hold a part of me.
I may not choose you in obvious ways,
but I will always stand with you.
Quietly. Unshakably.
My love language is simple.
So simple that people often miss it.
But everything I do, I do with great love.
To those who know me:
If you see yourself in this, just know…
You matter more than you think.
You have been loved deeply, whether you noticed or not..
Aalmaa 