How would you describe yourself to someone who can’t see you?

If we ever crossed paths and you couldn’t see me—no photos, no video, just words and energy—I think this is what I’d want you to know.

I’m not loud, but I’m not invisible either.
I’m the quiet type. The one who quietly blends into the background—not out of disinterest, but because I’m taking everything in. Observing. Noticing. Feeling. That’s how I move through the world.

I care deeply—sometimes more than I let on. I pick up on the tone in your voice and the subtle changes in how you speak when something really matters to you. I overthink. I replay conversations in my head.
But it’s not just overthinking—it’s my way of trying to truly understand people and connect on a deeper level.

I’m the kind of person who tears up at a song lyric, who re-watches the same comfort shows, and finds beauty in the way light hits the floor at 3 p.m. on a quiet afternoon. I get attached to moments that feel like home, even if they only last a second.

If I had to describe myself without using visuals, I’d say I’m soft-spoken, steady, and thoughtful.

There’s a lot going on beneath the surface. I’ve dealt with anxiety and overthinking for most of my life—but I’ve also learned how to breathe through it. Not always perfectly, but gently. Creatively. One honest sentence at a time.

I’ve taught myself so many things—design, editing, blogging, photography—mostly through trial, error, and curiosity. I used to feel like I had to prove myself all the time, like I wasn’t “legit” unless someone validated it. But now? I just want to keep learning, creating, and sharing. That’s enough for me.

You won’t always hear me in a room, but if I speak, it’ll come from a real place.
I’m someone who believes in intentional words, handwritten messages, quiet acts of love. I’m not the loudest person, but I’m someone you’ll remember for how I made you feel: heard, safe, maybe even a little more hopeful.

So if you can’t see me, maybe you can still feel me—
in the words I write,
in the stories I tell,
in the small moments I hold with care.

And maybe that’s more than enough.

Thanks for being here. 💛