My scars always seem to start conversations before I do. Sometimes I see a flicker of pity before I even speak to someone and I always want to whisper that I’m fine. Our scars tell our stories yes, but these are very old chapters, and they always healed so quickly anyway, as if they were telling me to let things go…

Some words just find a home in you. These are the lines, lyrics, and little moments I’ve carried. Serendipitous gifts from strangers, stories, and songs that found me when I wasn’t looking. I’ve held them close for years. Maybe something here stays with you too.

Who says we have to start on January 1st? On Sunday bright and early? After a breakup or a birthday? Start mid-week. Start mid-year. Start at…