Paige Madison
Bio
I’m so glad you’re here, and I hope my stories feel like a warm conversation with an old friend.
Between What Breaks and Blooms - Available on Amazon and Kindle
Stories (28)
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Ashes Fell, You Rose Anew
I don’t know why I keep writing about flowers, but I suppose they’ve always been easier to understand than people. Tonight, my thoughts drift to daylilies. Not because they’re my favorite—they’re not—but because they remind me of myself. Everyone sees their bright orange petals and assumes they’re simple, cheerful things. But if you look closely, really look, you notice the intricacies, the edges, the subtle shadows that betray a story of survival.
By Paige Madison6 months ago in Journal
Reflections by the Shore
Journal Entry – August 24, 2025 Today was one of those rare days where the world feels at once expansive and intimate, where every moment seems both ordinary and extraordinary. I found myself wandering beneath a sky so vast and soft it almost seemed endless. The kind of sky that invites you to breathe a little deeper, to feel the space between the clouds and the horizon stretch inside you. There was a gentle wind, almost shy, brushing past my cheeks like someone whispering a secret just for me. It carried with it a quiet rhythm, like the tide itself had been taking careful notes on the day and wanted me to notice.
By Paige Madison6 months ago in Journal
When You Chose Him
Dear You, I have held these words inside me for years, carrying them quietly as if by speaking them aloud I would somehow shatter the fragile equilibrium I’ve maintained since we drifted. I am writing now, not to send, not to demand answers, not even to ask for apologies—but to bear witness to the truth of how it felt to lose you.
By Paige Madison6 months ago in Confessions
I’m Sorry, Yeah, Me Too
Journal Entry – February 24, 2025 Today, I read it. A message—327 words long—laid out as if it were some kind of confession, some attempt at clarity. It excused everything: the manipulation, the emotional tug-of-war, the endless games. Every slight I’d felt, every quiet moment of self-doubt I’d carried, every ounce of fear that maybe I was overreacting—it was all rationalized, justified, turned back on me. And at the very end, after all the twisting and the excuses, there it was: “I’m sorry.” A single, feeble phrase dangling like a weak apology, completely inadequate for the weight of everything else.
By Paige Madison6 months ago in Confessions
