<aside>
<aside>
Touch my soul
Feel my heart
Stay with me
-安天美
</aside>
Have you ever met someone who sees straight through to your essence? Not the carefully curated version we tend to show the world, but the real, raw, beautiful mixed underneath. That's what touching a soul means. It's terrifying and liberating - a moment when you let your guard down and show someone your unfinished art, your imperfect music, your half-formed dreams.
I think about the rare people who've truly touched my soul - they're the ones who saw me stumbling through my growth, trying to find my voice, and instead of turning away, they leaned in closer. They're the ones who make it safe to be both strong and scared, brilliant and unsure.
Sometimes we forget that letting someone touch our soul isn't weakness - it's the bravest thing we can do. It's saying "here I am" without filters or pretense.
Asking someone to feel your heart is different from asking them to love it. Feeling comes first - it's witnessing the wild, uneven rhythms of who we are. Like when you're learning something new and your movements aren't smooth yet, but someone sits with you through all the awkward stages, celebrating each small victory.
I've learned that hearts don't just beat - they speak, they dance, they hide, they soar. And when we find people who feel the full range of our heart's language, who understand our silences as much as our words, it changes everything. They become the ones we can text at 3 AM with our wildest ideas or deepest fears.
There's a special kind of magic in being felt rather than just seen. It's in those moments when someone gets excited about your passion project before you've even finished explaining it, or when they notice you're off-beat before you've said a word.
"Stay with me" might be the most honest prayer we ever speak. Not "be perfect" or "fix everything" - just stay. Be here. Witness my journey. It's what we whisper when we're about to share something we've created, when we're stepping into new territory, when we're finally ready to be seen.
Staying is active - it's choosing each other again and again through evolution and change. It's supporting someone's visibility while honouring their need to retreat, celebrating their voice while protecting their silence.
I think about the people who've stayed - through the messy first drafts, through the identity shifts, through the moments when I was more potential than polish. They're the ones who make it possible to keep creating, keep growing, keep daring to be seen.
This kind of love - soul-touching, heart-feeling, presence-keeping love - it changes you. It makes you braver, not because you're fearless, but because you know you're not facing the fears alone. It's like having someone who believes in your music even when the drums don't hit right, who sees your art even in the resin bubbles.
Together becomes a place where you can be both elusive and seen, both student and creator, both healing and whole. It's where "I'm still learning" meets "I'm exactly where I need to be.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
</aside>
<aside> <img src="/icons/backward_blue.svg" alt="/icons/backward_blue.svg" width="40px" /> Quiet Rebellion
</aside>
<aside> <img src="/icons/forward_blue.svg" alt="/icons/forward_blue.svg" width="40px" /> Stitch Metaphors
</aside>