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So, today was eventful and by that, I mean I saw my gym crush again. Let’s just say he definitely knows I exist (I mean, I was there, breathing and everything), but I don’t think he’s into me. Why? Because he talks to everyone… and by everyone, I mostly mean this one very beautiful girl who I swear is in her gym era and her shampoo commercial era.
Me? I’m the only Black girl in the room, thick and minding my business (and my reps). Not surprised, just observing like David Attenborough narrating from the squat rack.
But here’s the thing—I like this feeling. I’ve been in relationships before, but never had an actual crush. This is new, and kind of cute. It makes me feel girly. Giddy, even.
Oh, and let’s not forget the other guy at the gym—with calves carved by the gods and height that says “reach for the top shelf without effort.” I don’t want anything serious—I just enjoy looking at handsome men while pretending to stretch.
Sometimes healing is just noticing fine men and allowing yourself to feel soft. That’s all. No plot. Just vibes.
The Masks We Live In
There’s a certain kind of quiet that follows you when you’ve spent most of your life trying not to take up too much space.
When you’ve learned to be “strong”, because falling apart wasn’t an option.
When you’ve smiled through pain because it was easier than explaining it.
People see the put-together version“You’re so strong,” they say.
But they don’t see the nights you cry in the shower so no one hears.
Or the days you get up, go to work, help others, even though you’re running on fumes.
This blog is for that version of you and me.
The way you hold it together at work but collapses into bed with dishes still in the sink.
The way you joke around in public but gets overwhelmed by the smallest task at home.
The way you are trying, healing, surviving and sometimes just existing.
If you’ve ever had to wear a mask just to get through the day
You’re not alone.
Let’s talk about it.
