Big love isn’t loud, it’s subtle, consistent, and often overlooked. It’s not the birthday posts or the crisis rescues that make us feel safe; it’s the way someone remembers how we take our coffee or texts us on a Tuesday just to check in. The little things may not scream love, but they live it. This is a rebellion against performative connection, a reminder that the real stuff is in the details.

I don’t hold grudges, I just remember. I remember the words people said that cut deep, the actions that spoke louder than their empty apologies, and the way they made me feel when they walked away. Remembering isn’t about clinging to anger or resentment; it’s about learning, growing, and setting boundaries that protect my peace. It’s not forgiveness that sets me free; it’s the clarity that comes from remembering, and from refusing to repeat the same mistakes.