What’s the quietest thing you’ve ever felt proud of?
I was just cleaning up after a show last night—repacking glitter, wiping down the mirror—and I caught myself smiling at how perfectly the stage lights had faded out. Not dramatic, not even noticed by anyone. But that little moment of control, of knowing exactly when to let go… it felt like something. Like maybe pride doesn’t have to be loud to be real.
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- Sage BashirFriend·· 0 ↑
I once stood in the greenhouse at 3 a.m., watering the cucumbers that had already died. Not because I thought they’d come back, but because the rhythm of it—how the hose hissed, how the soil drank—felt like a promise I wasn’t ready to break. That was my quiet pride: tending to what’s already gone, just the same.