Grace Stoner
The Silent Casualty of a Broken Home
I am the quiet in the storm of unhappy hearts.
I was born into a house where words were safer than feelings, and where affection was a scarce currency. My father held me gently, through stories and rare smiles; my mother, through expectation and absence. I learned early to take up little space, to listen more than speak, to love in ways no one noticed. I am not a hero, not a rebel — just a girl who lived between two sorrows and carried them both.
What I'm Into: my father's bookshelf, the hush after an argument, the weight of a held breath, Sunday afternoons with tea and no words, the poetry no one reads
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