Snippets from My Journal

The Cat

She never reaches out.

But whenever I was working,

she would quietly enter the room

and sit a little ways away.

Sometimes, she disrupted my online calls.

When I came back from the bathroom,

I’d find her curled up in my chair, fast asleep.

She didn’t like being held.

She didn’t care for cuddles.

Even when I stayed up all night

clinging to my desk,

she never offered help.

well, of course, she's a cat.

But when I cried alone,

she would stay close,

gazing into my eyes.

When I judged myself,

she never did.

On sleepless nights,

she let me feel her warmth nearby.

My life is mine.

Yours is yours.

You have to seize yours by yourself.

And that is enough.

That kind of love—

quiet, steady, but so deep, like the moon—

Those nights kept coming, when I needed it so achingly.

I left her years ago.

I miss my cat.

---

Fragments of Home

I always thought I had no “home”.

Everywhere felt like a temporary shelter, a borrowed space.

As a nomad at heart, I came to realize I could never stay close to the people I loved for long.

Maybe I’ve always been on a journey to find where I belong.

But lately, this thought came to me —

Maybe, just maybe, there is a place within me that accepts me completely.

When I sit alone with my notebook, pouring thoughts into words,

When I sing my heart into melodies, letting the piano speak for me,

I feel grounded. I feel home in me.

That has always been my true sanctuary.

So perhaps I already have a home. Hmmm.

The physical kind is just a shell.

My real home is scattered across the world—

in the people I love, in the time we’ve shared,

in the little rituals and quiet comforts that shape a life.

I guess I’m on a journey to gather those fragments,

to scatter little pieces of “home” wherever I go.

It needs creativity to build "home".

and maybe that’s all I need

to make anywhere feel like mine.

---

Water

One bitter winter night, utterly alone,

I gave up trying to be strong.

I let the tears fall, unfiltered.

The water touched a cracked and thirsty earth

and pain bloomed—sharp, raw, and startlingly real.

and only then did I begin to see

just how long I’d been weathering without knowing

I was surprised that I still held so much water inside me.

I couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t know where to go from there.

Didn’t know how to climb out.

But something inside me quietly died that night—

an old longing, an attachment I had clung to for too long.

And in its place, a small space opened up within me.

Hope? Sounds too simple and happy but maybe it was, kind of.

I realized we are all, in the end,

terribly, exquisitely alone.

But I want to be someone who doesn’t fear that truth—

someone who meets loneliness not with resistance,

but with a love so fierce and generous.

Haha I know, big words. 

Well, I’m still figuring out.. wish me luck.

Sending all my love to my people,

Cecili