NANANI NANANA

Inside, everything is like a classified file: signatures, stamps, and feelings marked “for official use only.” On the outside, there is confidence that everything is under control, but on the inside, there is a constant struggle with oneself. Every day is like negotiations between the heart and the mind, where neither wants to sign a peace treaty.

Love here is not mimimi and fireworks, but a contract with reservations, fine print, and the eternal “until the first betrayal.” But, oddly enough, it is in this strictness that tenderness lies. Honesty can be felt in the half-hints, the unspoken words, and the cautious touches. Not the kind that shouts, but the kind that whispers, “Yes, I'm afraid too, but I'm staying.”