Some times people leave when you love them. Sometimes texts get blurry and keep you up. I hope time heals this because fuck it hurts right now.
The air feels heavy — not just with humidity, but with memory.
We remember Pulse. We remember the laughter, the music, the light that was stolen, and the love that refused to die.
May we keep building a world where joy is never punished, and where every soul can dance without fear.
