From the Ramblings on Solitude collection, the long game* explores the slow, quiet ache of family — and the complicated love that lingers even when things go unsaid.
It holds space for the kind of grief that doesn’t come from loss, but from knowing how much could’ve been different… and wasn’t. It’s about the version of home you waited for, the softness you hoped would arrive with time, and the reality that not every bond stretches the way it should.
“It was bittersweet, you know? Knowing none of it had to be this way.”
A sentence that captures both the tenderness and the ache — and the weight of watching someone you love choose distance, again and again.
From the Ramblings on Solitude collection, the long game* explores the slow, quiet ache of family — and the complicated love that lingers even when things go unsaid.
It holds space for the kind of grief that doesn’t come from loss, but from knowing how much could’ve been different… and wasn’t. It’s about the version of home you waited for, the softness you hoped would arrive with time, and the reality that not every bond stretches the way it should.
“It was bittersweet, you know? Knowing none of it had to be this way.”
A sentence that captures both the tenderness and the ache — and the weight of watching someone you love choose distance, again and again.
