hello, tan-tan.

this has lived in the quiet of my notes for far longer than i intended. i kept writing and rewriting, wondering if the words would ever feel enough. maybe they still don’t—but something in me says now is the time.thank you for existing exactly as you are, and for somehow finding your way into my little corner of the world. we met in a space many call unreal—a world of borrowed names and passing moments—but nothing about you ever felt fake to me. you were a gentle kind of real, the kind that doesn’t demand to be noticed, but is felt deeply. even in your silence, your presence spoke.when we were still talking, you may not have seen it—but you became an anchor in ways you never intended. you saved me from quiet sadness, from invisible weights i carried alone. there were days i felt like i was unraveling at the edges, and then you’d say something small—something ordinary—and just like that, i felt less alone. you reached me in places i didn’t even know were aching. and for that, i will always be grateful.you came into my life during a time when everything felt unfamiliar—when i was still a stranger to my own surroundings. and then there was you—steady and soft. like grace in human form. i never told you this, but your presence made those early, quiet days bearable. you reminded me that comfort doesn’t always need grand gestures; sometimes, it’s just someone showing up—and staying, even for a while.i whisper quiet prayers—asking God to guide your steps, to shield your heart, to give you the kind of peace that lingers even in the dark. the kind of peace that feels like coming home to yourself.wherever you are, whatever you’re carrying—i hope you’re okay. i hope you’re finding your way. and if ever you feel lost, i hope you remember that someone out there is quietly thankful for you, always.