Sessi. Dancing Corners

Tag: softnessaftersurvival

  • The View Was Worth the Detour

    The View Was Worth the Detour

    I booked The Edge with my friend because I wanted to see everything New York had to offer from way up high. And honestly? The view was amazing.

    But let me rewind to how we even got to that moment.

    On Saturday, I had to work my usual Saturday shift, but I got to work with my brother, which always makes the day more fun. After work, we went home for a bit before heading out to meet my cousin and her boyfriend. They balance each other very well very cute together and it was nice getting to spend a little time with family before the city adventure officially began.

    Then came the rain.

    And New York has a full blown love affair with rain. I swear I am always there when it’s raining. There’s this saying about “rain writes stories sun could never tell,” and that stuck with me as I stepped into my new decade and made my way through the city.

    I took the walk to my friend’s apartment while it was still raining, slightly lost in the process, but somehow enjoying it anyway. There’s something about New York in the rain that feels chaotic, cinematic, and weirdly comforting all at once.

    Finally, I made it to my friend’s apartment after Google Maps decided to send me on a little detour before actually letting me arrive. Classic. We grabbed soup dumplings and fried rice at Nan Xiang, which is one of my favorite spots in New York.

    Because nothing says “rainy city adventure” like getting a little lost, finding your people, and rewarding yourself with dumplings.

    Saturday was the detour. Sunday was the view

    The next day was when the real Edge adventure happened.

    On Sunday, we went to Starbucks Reserve before heading to The Edge. And let me just say: espresso martini flights? A dangerous little blessing. We tried different flavors from ube to matcha, the original, and more and it felt like the perfect pre adventure stop.

    We sat, sipped, laughed, and had one of those good conversations about life that makes you realize how much you needed the moment. Sometimes the best part of a day isn’t even the big plan itself, but the little pockets of honesty and connection before you get there.

    After Starbucks Reserve, we headed to The Edge to finally take in the scenery. Seeing New York from that high up was unreal. The city looked endless buildings, lights, movement, stories everywhere. We took pictures, talked to some of the people who worked there, and just let ourselves enjoy being tourists for a little while.

    And honestly? Sometimes that’s the best way to experience New York with a friend, a loose plan, a little caffeine, a little chaos, and a view that reminds you how big life can still feel.

    After that, we headed home, tired but happy, with pictures, memories, and another New York story added to the collection.

    Maybe that’s what I loved most about the weekend. It reminded me that even when the plan shifts, the rain starts, or the map takes you the long way, there can still be something beautiful waiting at the top

  • What Cherry Blossoms Taught Me About Life

    What Cherry Blossoms Taught Me About Life

    I’ve loved cherry blossoms for as long as I can remember but I didn’t realize why until life got hard.

    Since I was 18, and even into my mid 20s, I’ve always had a thing for cherry blossoms.

    To me, they represent beauty, new beginnings, and the importance of living in the present moment. Their bloom is short and sweet, and maybe that’s what makes them so special. They remind me that life is fleeting, and that there’s something sacred about appreciating what’s in front of you while it’s here.

    Even though I don’t always get to see them in person as much as I’d like, when I do whether I’m on a run, out for a walk, or just passing by I really take them in.

    Because before you know it, they’re gone.

    And honestly? I think that’s part of why I love them so much.

    There’s something about seeing cherry blossoms when life feels heavy that just does something to you. When you’re spiraling, doubting yourself, or feeling like you’re not enough… and then you look up and see those soft pink blooms, it feels like a little glimpse of hope staring back at you.

    Like life is quietly saying:

    You’re going to be okay.

    There was a point in my life where I really needed that reminder.

    I was spiraling.

    I wasn’t feeling good enough.

    I felt like no one was willing to take a chance on me.

    And on top of that, life just kept piling on.

    I was grinding through so much and carrying it quietly because I didn’t want to burden my family or friends. So instead, I found little ways to pour back into myself. I went to New York. I took dance classes. I walked through parks. I found small moments that made me feel grounded again.

    And oh boy… did it work.

    It gave me confidence.

    A new perspective.

    A little spark in me that I thought I had lost.

    Just like cherry blossoms symbolize, I had to shed a little of myself to come back to life. Not lose who I was just let go of what was weighing me down so I could find my way back to me.

    Now, whenever I see cherry blossoms, I don’t just see something beautiful.

    I see hope.

    I see growth.

    I see perspective.

    I see a reminder that life can still surprise you in soft ways.

    And every single year, they bring me back to something I always say to myself and to anyone I end up talking to about life:

    Every year is an upgrade.

    Because you are not the same person you were last year.

    You are who you are in this moment.

    And that version of you matters too.

    So appreciate the moment.

    Take it in.

    Let yourself bloom while you’re here.

    Just like the cherry blossoms

  • Miguel’s Chaos Tour

    Miguel’s Chaos Tour

    Before Miguel sang “Simple Things,” he paused and spoke about why he writes.

    He talked about wanting to be seen. Wanting to be heard. Wanting the simple things something he’s wanted since he was a little boy.

    And standing there at Radio City Music Hall, I realized that’s why I write too.

    But let me rewind.

    The first time I saw Miguel was during his Wildheart Tour on August 2, 2015. I went with my forever friend Brittany, and we turned it into a whole staycation moment. We stayed at my uncle’s apartment, rode bikes across the Brooklyn Bridge, and explored New York in a way that definitely cost less than it does now.

    Then on March 24, 2018, I went to his War & Leisure Tour with my cousins. We stayed at the apartment again and had another chill, fun New York weekend. Both nights at Terminal 5 became core memories for me. It was just a short walk from my uncle’s place at the time, which made it feel even more magical.

    Fast forward to February 24, 2026 Miguel’s Chaos Tour at Radio City Music Hall.

    Different venue. Same feeling.

    He performed a mix of old and new music. I’ve noticed lately that at concerts, many people don’t really know the newer songs. My forever friend who I went with this time too put it in perspective for me: some people just want the nostalgia. The hits. The familiar.

    But me? I love singing the new songs just as loudly. I want the artist to feel that the evolution matters. That the growth is being received. That the hard work didn’t go unnoticed.

    Miguel sang songs like “The Thrill,” “RIP,” “Sure Thing,” and more. And he can sing sing. The mic stays on. The playback drops. It’s him and the band. No hiding. Just artistry.

    But it was that speech before “Simple Things” that really got me.

    On the internet, everything can start to sound the same polished, filtered, almost copy-and-paste. Sometimes it feels like originality gets drowned out by performance.

    His words didn’t feel like performance.

    They felt human.

    And I realized that’s my “why” too. I blog to be seen. I write to be heard. Not to be perfect. Not to be viral. Just to be real.

    That night wasn’t just about the music. It was about remembering why expression matters in the first place.

    Miguel has carved out his own lane in R&B one that blends vulnerability, sensuality, and soul in a way that feels timeless.

    He’s still on tour. And if you ever get the chance to see him live, go.

    Not just for the hits.

    Not just for the nostalgia.

    But for the reminder that the simple things being seen, being heard are sometimes the most powerful of all.

    This city keeps holding my memories in the most unexpected ways.

  • 35 and Becoming

    35 and Becoming

    I’ve lived 35 years, and I’m still becoming.

    Not in a rushing, fixing, dramatic kind of way but in a quiet, rooted way.

    A way that stays.

    I don’t need to be more.

    I just need to keep becoming more of myself.

    This birthday doesn’t feel like a reset.

    It feels like a return.

    A return to the parts of me I abandoned when I thought I had to be perfect to be loved.

    A return to softness after years of survival.

    A return to beauty not the curated kind, but the real kind.

    The unmade-beds kind. Morning coffee. Laughing somewhere with friends.

    I don’t have all the answers, but here’s what I do know at 35:

    Life is messy.

    You’ll cry while working out at the gym with your friend or at the bar.

    You’ll laugh in the kitchen during deep conversations on nights you stay in.

    You’ll forget your worth, then remember it like a firework.

    You’ll lose people who swore they’d never leave only to realize you were doing all the heavy lifting. And yes… it’ll happen more than once.

    But then, you’ll find peace in unexpected places.

    New York.

    A dance class.

    South Carolina while visiting a friend.

    Mexico.

    Mexico City while visiting your uncle.

    Italy

    Spain

    And somewhere along the way, the glow-up happens but it’s internal.

    It shows up in how you respond.

    How you pause before reacting.

    How you protect your peace even when it would be easier to self-destruct.

    It shows up after two years of therapy.

    After learning how to communicate better.

    After choosing healthier bonds with friends, family, and whoever is brave enough to take a real risk on you.

    Now, I find joy in the small things.

    Coffee runs.

    Slow mornings.

    Loud dinners.

    Spontaneous photoshoots.

    Walking aimlessly through New York because I don’t want to go home just yet.

    I’ve also learned this:

    You can love your life and still long for more.

    You can be grateful and still hungry.

    You can be more than one thing at once.

    You don’t have to follow anyone else’s timeline only your own.

    If it feels right to me, that’s what matters.

    I met the most down-to-earth dancers, entertainers, and creatives in New York during my mid and late twenties. It felt community based. Real. Appreciated. And I’m grateful I experienced that because now, I know what genuine connection looks like.

    Thirty five isn’t the finish line.

    It’s the soft middle.

    It’s where I stop performing and start embodying.

    Where I hustle less for love and trust it more.

    Where I know who I am just a little less shy, and a lot more hopeful.

    Here’s to not apologizing for who I’ve become.

    To loving louder.

    Resting deeper.

    Laughing easier.

    Letting things unfold naturally.

    I am so ready for you, 35.