This is how we begin to remember – not all at once but in pieces
They don’t speak loudly.
They don’t interrupt.
They don’t demand a reckoning.
They wait — in doorways, in almosts, in unanswered messages.
They are the part of us that believed love was coming, that goodness would arrive if we just stayed small enough, quiet enough, good enough.
This archetype lives in the hollow chest. In the saved seat. In the version of you who learned to linger.
They are not foolish. They are faithful. And tired.
“This voice carries ache and endurance — a tenderness that has turned inward”
BEING HUMAN
This voice carries ache and endurance — a tenderness that has turned inward. It is shaped by abandonment, but it also carries a deep, strange hope. A hope that maybe someone will return. That something will change. That softness will be met and not forgotten.
As many of us learned through the voices of Tara Brach or Brene Brown — the ache to be chosen is often bound to our deepest tenderness. But we are allowed to choose ourselves now.
If This Is You
You don’t have to keep waiting.
You can stand. Walk. Breathe.
The world may not notice right away.
But you are allowed to move — even without their return.
A Gentle Prompt
Where have I been waiting for someone else to choose me?
And what would it feel like to choose myself instead?
In Tenderness,
A. J. Ashé | Being Human
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