Witaj na stronie The beautiful souls 'Piekne dusze'

Today I'd like to say that I'm closer to myself. Simply, calmly closer- as if without rushing, without the need to prove anything. I like myself more and more. With each passing day, a little stronger, a little more confident, as if I were learning my own name all over again.

I remember that day as if through a haze, and yet every detail seems strangely sharp—as if someone had delicately emphasized the contours of the world just so I could feel more.

A calm mind is a revelation.

For me, femininity is a silence that doesn't need applause. It's a softness that doesn't signify weakness, but rather a willingness to be—without tension, without struggle. I feel it within me like a calm breath in the morning, when the world still doesn't want anything from me.

Sometimes I think my hypersensitivity isn't my ally. That it can tear me apart faster than I can collect myself. One word, one look, one understatement - and I feel everything too much, too deeply, too long.

For me, both reading and writing books are like journeys into other dimensions of reality. It's always been this way, for as long as I can remember. When I open a book, I feel like I'm crossing an invisible boundary - a door that others don't even notice. And when I write... then I create that door.

It started innocently – with a single question that arose somewhere between the daily rush and the quiet evening: do I really know who I am?

There's a tension inside me, as if every cell is ready to fight or flee, though I don't know from what exactly. I feel an injustice—quiet, sticky, settling on my skin like a fog. The kind that can't be easily washed away.

I bloom even in places that once seemed barren. I look at myself with tenderness, like a plant that has endured too long a winter. I used to think that if the earth was hard and dry, nothing good could grow from it. And yet here I stand – alive, calm, slowly opening my petals.

My life is like a dream now.

It's been a few years since I started truly listening to myself.

I feel it first in the air. Not in the calendar, not in the weather forecast – but in that single, barely perceptible breath that fills my lungs when I open the window in the morning. The air is no longer heavy and gray. It has a softness to it, as if someone had dispersed a bit of light into it. Then I know. Spring is just around the corner, smiling at me knowingly.