I was staying with the guy who offered me a place—a warm, open home in the Philippines. The morning was slow, soft. We just talked and laughed, getting to know each other better as the sun filtered through the window. I felt… weightless. For the first time in so long, my body didn’t ache. I didn’t need to hide inside my own skin.   
   
Later that day, I met up with her at the mall. The woman that had inspired every single love poem I had written for the last year.   
   
She was wearing a sundress, soft purple with white stripes. It matched her Nikes—white with hints of violet, like twilight folded into fabric. Her voice sounded like heaven, and her giggle—God, her giggle—made the whole world stop. The way she caught me looking at her, like she knew, and didn’t mind… like she liked it. The world faded every time she laughed. It was just us. No noise, no pain, no fear. Just us.   
   
We wandered the shops. She lit up when we passed a shoe display. I noticed the way her eyes lingered, how her fingers brushed the pair she liked without touching the price tag. She didn’t need to ask. I bought them for her without hesitation. Not to impress her—but because I wanted to. Because she deserved to have things that made her smile like that.   
   
Before the dream ended, I said something in Tagalog. I don’t remember the words, not fully. But I know what they meant:   
   
“I’m home.”   
   
And I was. For that brief, beautiful moment—I was whole. I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t fighting my own thoughts. I wasn’t surviving. I was living.   
   
I woke up with tears on my cheeks.   
   
The sunlight in my real room was harsher—unfiltered, impatient. My knees screamed again. My back ached like it always does. The weight came rushing back, like gravity remembered me.   
   
But even through the pain,   
even through the disappointment of being pulled from that softness—   
I smiled.   
   
Because for a little while,   
I knew what it was to live without hurting.   
To breathe without breaking.   
To love without fear.   
   
And even if it was only a dream,   
it’s mine now.   
A secret I tuck into the folds of my ribs.   
A memory from a place that maybe isn’t real,   
but felt more real than anything else ever has.   
   
And that… that’s enough to keep going.   
   
At least for today.   
At least for now.