my author copy of still, it’s you finally arrived today…
and holding it felt heavier than I expected — in a good, quiet, heart-full kind of way.
the print came out darker than the digital cover, deep mocha, almost black. at first I thought I messed something up, but then I realized…
this book was written in one of the darkest, softest seasons of my life.
maybe it was always meant to look like this.
the spine isn’t perfectly aligned either — just a little to the left.
and it reminded me of something:
my healing wasn’t perfectly aligned either.
yet here I am… still standing, still soft.
I sent a copy of this book to someone who once meant the world to me.
I didn’t ask if he read it.
I didn’t want to make him explain silence.
maybe he opened it.
maybe he couldn’t.
maybe it hurt.
maybe it healed something I’ll never see.
I guess I’ll never know.
but today, holding my own copy, I finally understood:
this book was never really a message for him.
it was a reminder for me — that I loved deeply, honestly, softly…
and somehow survived the parts that tried to break me.
and that alone is enough. 🤎🌙
— kim 🌙