Breathe, babe. What’s broken can always be fixed. Take my hand, love—you’re never alone. Breathe. Even when your mind is a battlefield and every breath feels like war, I will breathe with you. I may not be much, but for you—I will be bulletproof. Breathe.
-MC
This is for the ones who see through the demons. The ones who love fiercely, even when the world calls them foolish. The ones who stand in the storm, holding on when everyone else has let go.
To those who fight battles no one else can see, who carry wounds that don’t always show. To those who have been called crazy for believing, for staying, for refusing to give up. I see you. You are not alone.
Loving someone through the darkness is a weight that can break even the strongest souls. It’s questioning your own sanity, screaming into silence, standing in the fire because walking away would burn even more. It’s knowing that sometimes, the only thing keeping them here is you.
And for those still fighting—when it hurts too much to keep going, but it hurts more to let go—remember this: You are strength. You are light. You are beauty through the scars.
Not all angels have wings. Some just refuse to give up.
Angels Without Wings
Love in the Chaos
I have fought. I am still fighting. I have fallen more times than I can count, and I have looked into the darkness and wanted to let it take me. Everything—logic, life, the world—has told me to walk away. But something won’t let me. Love? Maybe. Some say it’s the devil’s work, keeping me bound to a war I should surrender. But love isn’t always light and easy.
Sometimes, love is standing in the wreckage, frantically looking for something to grab onto. And when you find nothing, screaming into the darkness that has slowly become your friend. Because the love born in the darkness is different from the love born in the light. Those who have loved in the dark are truly fearless—because every move risks facing the unknown.
He fed his own addiction by dragging me under with him. He left scars on me, ones I’ll never fully escape. Even when he was at his worst—when he was consumed by something even he couldn’t control—I will never forget the night he came at me, wanting me gone; tears streamed down his face, and through the rage, he was silently signing, "I'm sorry." That’s why i still fight. For that man trapped inside.
Then, he did the one thing he feared the most. To save me. To save us. He made sure he was caught. He sent himself to jail—because it was the only way he knew how to protect me from himself. He did it more than once.
For now, we wait. The boys and I. We are here. Breathing. Holding space for a future that hasn’t come yet. They were promised adventures on the coast, salty air and crashing waves. But we can’t go without him.
And for those who wonder—yes, every picture you see here is us. It’s not always bad. The world loves to paint only in black and white, but love—real love—lives in the gray. In the moments between the storms. In the quiet, in the chaos, in the fight to believe that maybe, just maybe, love can still win.