For those who have loved too deeply, lost too quickly, and been changed by the truths they were never ready to face, there comes a time when they learn that peace arrives only when you stop digging for answers. The less you know, the better you can survive the wreckage of what could’ve been.
You do yourself a favour by knowing less. At times, ignorance is not weakness but a quiet bliss. You reach for answers, then pull back into solitude, remembering how the truth once cut too deep and every detail burnt more. In those moments, ignorance felt like a shield, because knowledge proved to be crueller than the unknown.
And yet, before we go searching again, we cling to a fragile hope that uncovering more won’t wound us the way it once did.
Maybe peace isn’t found in knowing everything, but in trusting that some things are better left untouched and not every story needs a closure. Maybe some answers are meant to stay hidden — not to punish us, but to protect the little peace we’ve built.
In chasing answers to the questions I create for myself, I end up killing my own joy, wondering if there’s always something more I need to know.
Still, I hold onto a quiet faith — nothing meant for me can ever pass me by, not even the truths I fear. And perhaps when they arrive, they won’t break me, but set me free.