From Strangers to Something Like Home

From Strangers to Something Like Home

We were strangers first—

which means we were whole worlds

walking past each other

without a shared language yet.

You didn’t know the shape of my silences.

I didn’t know which stories you carried carefully,

or which ones you pretended were light

just so you could keep moving.

Strangers don’t owe each other gentleness.

They don’t pause long enough

to notice the tremble in a voice

or the way someone exhales

when they finally feel safe.

And then—

somewhere between a glance that lingered

and a conversation that went deeper than planned,

the distance softened.

Friendship didn’t arrive loudly.

It never does.

It came in listening.

In not rushing to fix.

In choosing curiosity over assumption.

In staying when it would’ve been easier

to remain anonymous.

Friends are just strangers

who decided to witness each other

without armor.

Who learned each other’s edges

and didn’t turn them into exits.

Who realized that connection

isn’t about how long you’ve known someone—

but how present you are

when they finally let you see them.

We didn’t lose ourselves becoming friends.

We recognized ourselves.

And somehow,

what began as unfamiliar

became a place to rest.

— Flower InBloom