quiet riches

if there’s something i’ve always dreamed of,
it’s not the things people talk about, the ones everyone chases—
not the mansions, not the diamonds, not the world tours.
somewhere along the way, we all forgot that comfort isn’t always wrapped in gold.
in fact, i think comfort is often quieter. softer.
it’s the kind of peace that doesn’t shout its arrival,
but settles gently into your bones, like the first warm rays of morning.

the dream for me has always been simpler than that.
it’s not a love, or some love.
it’s the love—the one that feels like breathing.
the one that becomes as necessary as air—
needed, natural, unnoticed in the best way possible.
the kind of love that doesn’t announce itself loudly,
but somehow, when it’s present, it fills the room.
it speaks without words, just being.

i don’t dream of being rich in the way the world defines it.
i think rich is subjective, and my version of rich?
it’s not about numbers. it’s waking up to someone
who never lets love run cold.
it’s breakfast with laughter, not silence.
it’s eyes that look at you as if you’re a miracle,
not a burden.
and it’s the way those eyes linger in the quiet,
as if they know that the greatest beauty doesn’t need to be held—
only witnessed.

i crave a home. not just a house,
but a home—a place where peace lives in the walls.
where love isn’t a performance, but the foundation.
a place where arguments never echo louder than affection.
where “i love you” isn’t rare, but said often,
and hugs are not earned, but freely given,
like breath—something we all need to survive.
i want a home where love doesn't keep score,
where even the smallest gestures feel like the biggest acts of kindness.

and i want to marry a man who loves me more than i love him—
not because i don’t love deeply,
but because i want to feel overwhelmed by it.
i want a love that swallows me whole,
so much so that there’s no space between the love he gives
and the love i feel.
the kind of love that overflows,
and no matter how much of it there is,
there’s always room for more.

i want love that’s inconvenient.
love that chooses me every single day,
love that doesn’t ask for conditions.
love that stays home, builds home, becomes home.

sometimes, i think about how little i say this out loud—
how often this dream just sits in my mind, folded between
casual thoughts and passing distractions.
but it’s been there, always,
this quiet dream of a life that isn’t loud or flashy.
a life that’s just deeply full—
full of warmth, full of presence, full of effort.

i don’t need luxury.
i need loyalty.
i don’t need perfection.
i need peace.
i don’t need everything—
i just need someone.
someone who makes love feel like the richest thing in the world.

and maybe that’s why this thought always lingers in my heart—
because in a world that’s constantly chasing everything,
i’m just waiting for something real to come home.
and stay.
maybe that’s all it takes.
to wait.
for something quiet.
something lasting.
something that fills the space between the noise
and leaves a trace.