A Piece of My Mind on Peace of Mind

They asked for a piece of my mind— so I offered silence, wrapped in gold. No rage, no clamor, no thunderclap, just breath unbroken when the world turned cold. Peace of mind isn't a destination, but a pact with storms I’ve learned to outlast. Not the absence of chaos—but grace, in the moments I choose not to cast judgment, holding fast. It's the stillness behind my steady stare, the fire I tame, not the one I unleash. It’s walking away when anger flares, letting go of what I can’t reach, finding release. I’ve stitched serenity from sorrow, threaded calm through countless sleepless nights. Peace, to me, isn't some distant tomorrow— but daring to rest in fractured lights. So if you want a piece of my mind, you’ll find it in the way I pause, in how I fold my fears like paper, and whisper “soft” where there was “because.” I’ll speak not to conquer, but to mend— peace isn't passive, it’s power, my friend.