I don’t always know what safety feels like when it comes to people. I’ve been wrong before. Trusted the tone instead of the truth. Believed calm voices that came with cold eyes. So now I look for it in smaller things.

Like thick socks that don’t twist around my ankles. Skies heavy with clouds that don’t glare too bright. A hoodie that smells like something familiar, like the version of me I was before I started apologizing for my needs.

It’s not that I don’t want connection. I just don’t know what to do with it when it feels like a test. My body still listens for the shift. The silence before the switch. And some days, I don’t have it in me to translate my instincts into something easy to understand.

So I wrap myself in the things that don’t ask for performance. The things that let me be quiet and still and unsure. The things that don’t call me distant just because I’m trying to feel safe again.