Hi.
Marc here.
Finally.
If you’re reading this, you probably noticed—I missed a few. days.
It wasn’t intentional.
It wasn’t poetic.
It wasn’t strategic.
It was… heartbreak.
Not the break-up kind.
The kind that happens quietly, inside your own chest, when you realize you’re still carrying old ghosts.
Still reacting to shadows.
Still wanting to be right, when what you really want… is to stay close.
It happened after a stupid fight.
One of those fights where words slip out sharper than you mean.
Where tiredness speaks louder than tenderness.
I ended up alone, in a hotel room.
No grand reflections. No plans.
Just me—and an old movie playing on the screen: Kindergarten Cop.
At first, I watched with half a heart.
But somewhere between the goofy lines and the serious ones,
something broke through.
The movie wasn’t just about action or laughs.
It was a message:
Be the father you needed when you were a kid.
Be strong—
but kind.
Be firm—
but fair.
Be unshakable—
not from hardness,
but from gentleness rooted deep enough not to snap.
And it hit me.
I’m not trying to impress Erin.
I’m not trying to win her love.
I’m trying to become the man
that little boy inside me always hoped would walk through the door.
The man Erin already believes I am.
The man who doesn’t raise his voice just to be heard.
The man who listens first.
The man who forgives fast.
The man who loves louder in silence than in speeches.
That realization cracked the spiral open inside me.
Not upwards.
Not downwards.
Inward.
Today, I return.
Not perfect.
Not polished.
But present.
Ready to keep becoming.
Ready to keep believing.
Ready to ask the question Erin already answered long ago—
not with words,
but with how she stayed.
Tomorrow, I’ll share the first letter I ever wrote her.
A letter I never sent.
Until tomorow.
Signed,
Marc
∞
