I finally got my period today. The past week has been a lot — not just physically, but emotionally. People always joke about PMS like it’s just random mood swings, like you're crying over nothing. But it’s not like that. It’s that all the things you normally deal with, all the small and big struggles you usually carry without even thinking, suddenly become too much. It's like my emotional skin gets thinner, and everything cuts deeper. Every little frustration, every small sadness, every tiny disappointment feels heavier, louder, harder to ignore. It’s not that the problems are new — it’s that my ability to hold them together just slips through my fingers. I hate that feeling of losing control, of feeling so vulnerable without being able to explain it properly. Today, getting my period felt almost like a weird kind of relief. Like, okay, now I know why it’s been so hard to breathe lately. Now I can at least let my body do what it needs to do. It’s still tough, but somehow it feels more real now, more tangible. I’m tired. But I’m also proud of myself for making it through another month of being gentle with myself when everything inside wanted to break.
The Little Popcorn.