Better Late than Never
by Crissy Bliss Addams

The minute I heard my first love story,
I thought I had to go searching—
out there, somewhere, in someone else’s arms.

Truth is, love was already here,
woven into me all along.
Turns out the real work wasn’t chasing it,
but noticing the walls I’d built against it.

Every fear, every scar, every doubt—
they were just barriers I had to soften,
so love could finally breathe through.

Coming home to my #truelove
isn’t about finding perfection.
It’s about presence—
the quiet “I’m here” when things feel heavy,
the choice to stay, again and again,
even when it’s hard, even when it hurts.

And when I let those walls fall,
I see it clearly:
love isn’t out there waiting.
Love is here,
and home is the heart that chooses it.