Tag Page UnspokenThings

#UnspokenThings
William Davidson

I Can’t Answer My Own Security Questions

I was resetting a password the other day. One of the security questions popped up: “What is your dream?” I stared at it longer than I should’ve. Then came the others: “What’s your favorite thing?” “Where do you most want to go?” I had picked those questions years ago—probably in high school. Back when I had answers. Quick ones. Certain ones. Now? I couldn’t think of a single thing to type. Not because I’ve done it all. But because somewhere along the way, I stopped asking myself those questions. They became... inconvenient. Impractical. Childish. I used to know who I was by the answers I gave. Now all I have is the blank box blinking, waiting. And the quiet realization: I don’t remember the last time I let myself dream without explaining why it didn’t make sense. #LostPartsOfMe #UnspokenThings #GrowingUpQuietly #SoftSadness

I Can’t Answer My Own Security Questions
William Davidson

He Said It Like a Joke. But I Never Forgot.

It was just another physics class in 11th grade. Our teacher stood at the front, chalk in hand. “Next question,” he said. “Halley’s Comet comes every 76 years. Last time was 1986—before you were born. So… when’s the next time?” Someone muttered, “2061.” “Exactly. Easy one.” He smiled. “You’ll all live to see it. I won’t.” He said it lightly, almost as a throwaway line. But the room went quiet for a second too long. None of us were thinking about comets after that. He probably went back to teaching, forgot he even said it. But I didn’t. That one moment—the reminder that our futures stretch longer than someone else’s— has stayed with me more than anything I learned that year. It’s strange what sticks: Not the equations. Not the test scores. Just a passing sentence about a comet and the people who won't be around to see it. #UnspokenThings #MomentsThatStay #GrowingUpFast #TimeWeDontHave

He Said It Like a Joke. But I Never Forgot.
clayraymond

I Missed It While It Was Still Mine

In high school, I dreamed of college. Of leaving town. Of finally being somewhere better. Then I got there—and spent four years thinking: This isn’t what I pictured. Too fast. Too lonely. Too much pretending. And now? Now I look back on high school like it was golden. The late bus rides. The cafeteria laughter. Even the awkward hallway run-ins. The truth is: The “best” version of your life always seems to live in a different timeline. The college you craved is nothing like the one you remember. And the high school you hated is suddenly soft around the edges. We keep chasing the next phase, hoping it will finally feel right. But sometimes, the sweetest parts are the ones we sleepwalked through— too busy hoping for something bigger to realize we already had something good. And now it’s memory. Not home. #NostalgiaHitsLate #UnspokenThings #GrowingUpQuietly #ChasingNext

I Missed It While It Was Still Mine
clayraymond

She Said She Won’t Live to See Me Old

I sent my mom an AI photo of me at 80, laughing at how weird it looked. She joked, “So ugly 🙂” Then, “I won’t be that ugly at 80 🤔” I laughed back: “No way 🤣” Then she said, “Send a few more. Mom won’t be around to see you grow old.” I just sat there. She said it so casually—like it wasn’t the most heartbreaking sentence I’ve ever read. She wasn’t being sad. Just honest. Like she already knew her time won’t stretch as far as mine. We don’t talk about death. We barely say “I love you.” But that was her love—tucked inside a quiet truth. A reminder: Some people won’t grow old beside you. Say what you need to say. Send the photo. Start the call. Because the future you imagine with them? It’s already fading. #MotherhoodAndMortality #UnspokenThings #GriefInAdvance #TimeWeDontHave

She Said She Won’t Live to See Me Old