Drama
Sometimes paternal abuse doesn’t look like a storm. Sometimes it looks like a sky you were taught to navigate by a map that was never drawn for you.
And that’s the confusing part — when the person who was supposed to be your North Star becomes the fog you keep walking through. When love and fear get braided together so tightly you forget they were ever meant to be separate threads.
If this is you, hear this clearly: Your confusion is not a flaw. It’s evidence of how deeply you tried to make sense of the senseless.
You are not broken. You are not late. You are not lost.
You are wandering — yes — but wandering is not the same as failing. Wandering is what we do when the path we were given was never safe to walk.
So if you feel like Van Gogh searching for color in a world that taught you to dim your own light… If you feel like Neptune — distant, misunderstood, orbiting in a place no one bothered to learn the temperature of…
I see you.
And you deserve a life where your voice isn’t an echo, your worth isn’t conditional, and your existence isn’t something you have to justify.
BTW Where is Ban Gogh? Where is Neptune?
— in every survivor who is learning to paint again, breathe again, and name their own sky.
Keep going. Your clarity is coming. Your orbit is your own now.