Drifting Thoughts

You’re allowed to be tired and still trying — because even the smallest flicker of hope means you haven’t given up, and that’s its own kind of strength.

We don’t stop needing help — we just get better at hiding it, hoping someone hears the silence between our words and understands what we’re too afraid to ask for.

There’s a kind of exhaustion that isn’t about sleep — it’s the weight of hiding your pain behind “I’m just tired,” hoping someone sees through it, but bracing yourself in...

It’s a strange kind of grief—mourning people who are still alive, just no longer within reach.

A soft mourning for the version of myself I imagined I’d be by now — and the quiet hope that she might still be possible.

A quiet reflection on the moment I realized that being chosen by others means nothing if I haven’t chosen myself first.

“I’m not nothing. I’m something that I don’t understand.”— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

There’s a weight to the words we never say — the half-spoken thoughts, the swallowed truths, the ache we tuck behind small talk. This piece is for those quiet feelings...

What happens after you submit a note to Nowhere Notes? Learn how your quiet words are handled, shared, or kept safe — always with your choice, always with care.

Discover the quiet space behind Nowhere Notes—a gentle place for unspoken thoughts, drifting feelings, and quiet expression. Learn why writing softly still matters.