PHOTOSHOOT IN LIDO DI JESOLO🇮🇹

Today was a capital-letter kind of day. Sunshine, the beach, ice cream, sand between my toes, and Ruby—our little ball of furry joy—creating waves of laughter with every wag of her tail. We were in Lido di Jesolo—me, my boyfriend, and our four-legged happiness ambassador. It felt like something out of a commercial for life itself… except for the part where I asked him for the fifth time to take another photo.

“Seriously? Another one?” “Yes. And then maybe two more.” He rolled his eyes. I rolled my hair.

Because let’s be honest—if there are no photos, did the day even really happen? One for the story, one for the hive, one for “maybe someday,” one from the left side, one from the right… and about 96 that will live forever in a folder called “nope.”

But this isn’t a post about pictures. It’s a post about me. About who I am now. And who I used to be.

If you had met me two and a half years ago, you probably would’ve mistaken me for a shadow. I didn’t talk. I didn’t eat. I didn’t go out. I slept. I cried. Then I cried some more. There were days I felt like I could be bottled up and sold as a natural source of tears. I wasn’t just tired—I was hollow. Not in the “we’re out of milk” kind of way, but the deep, soul-curled-up-in-a-corner kind of empty.

I started therapy. Saw a psychiatrist. I listened when I could. Sometimes I just sat there, quiet. People tried to pull me out of that darkness—but I clung to the edges like it was the only safe place left. I didn’t speak much, because for too long I had learned that my voice didn’t matter.

My childhood? Let’s just say it looked better on paper. In reality, it was survival training disguised as growing up. And that survival mode followed me well into adulthood.

Outside, I smiled. Inside, I was a sinking ship. And it still hurts how good I became at pretending everything was “okay.”

But today?

Today, I’m no longer an actress in a drama I didn’t audition for. Today, I’m the scriptwriter. This chapter is mine.

I go for walks. I talk to people I wouldn’t have had the energy to say “hi” to a year ago. I send my boyfriend on sunset paparazzi missions. I drink coffee slowly. I enjoy it. I eat Nutella straight from the jar. Not because I’m numbing something—but because I actually want to.

Yes, I take medication. And? I’d rather be a functioning, healing human with help than a silent, empty shell pretending to be strong. I’m not a robot. I’m human. And humans need support sometimes. That’s more than okay.

I’m writing this because I want to remind everyone who scrolls and judges too quickly—step back. You don’t know what someone’s carrying. That confidence you see today might be rising from the ashes of yesterday’s heartbreak. That smile? Could be covering a story that would bring you to tears.

And if you are the one in that dark space right now—listen to me: You are not alone. And no—it won’t always feel this way.

Life isn’t always beautiful, but it gives you moments worth staying for. Sometimes it’s the little things—a dog looking at you like you’re made of magic. A photo you choose out of a hundred, because your eyes are finally shining again.

So here’s to you—the ones who keep trying. Who wash their face, even when they’d rather stay under the covers. Who butter a piece of bread, even when appetite is nowhere to be found. Who breathe. Who walk. Who simply make it through the day—and let that be enough.

I’m one of you. And today, I like myself. Not because of a filter. Because of the truth. Because of the journey. Because I’m—finally—me again.

And let me not forget my boyfriend @Rajkooooo 😘– my unofficial therapist, reluctant photographer, and quiet hero through all my broken days. I wouldn’t be where I am without him. When I was silent, he sat with me in that silence. When I was falling apart, he didn’t try to fix me—he just held me. And that hug… it didn’t save the world, but it saved me. He didn’t push, didn’t judge. He simply stayed. And that “staying” was enough to help me believe that life could be beautiful again.