You’ve reached The Soft Place. It’s not a newsletter, or a blog, just a page where I put words that feel like they don’t belong anywhere else.
I’ll be updating this biweekly (or somewhere in that general time line). Expect soft things. Probably feelings. Maybe a poem. Maybe just a sentence that sat in my head too long and needed to stretch its legs.
You don’t have to do anything here. Just read, if you want. Or scroll. Or come back later when things feel a little heavy.
Either way, this place exists now. Think of it as a soft corner I tidied up just for you.
Be a cactus in a glass house.
Resilient, awkward, impossible to break without bleeding.Carry your heartbreak like an overstuffed tote bag,
ugly, useful, and somehow always with you at the checkout.Let your softness be suspicious.
Smile like a cat who knows the glass is already broken.Heal on a delay.
Like a text you forgot to reply to
still valid, just late.Speak in metaphors when truth feels too loud.
Call your anxiety “weather”
and your joy “found footage.”And when you don’t know who you are,
introduce yourself as “under renovation.”
People will understand.
Or they won’t.Either way,
the paint is drying.
Your sky holds back a storm with grace
a bud waits tight in folded green.
Chalk marks promise games at dusk
a kettle hums before the boil
not yet, but nearly,
something always stirs.
NIV 