Let's wrap this up

With a pink ribbon!

Come in, sit down, pour a warm drink.
We’ve done this before, but this time, we’re saying goodbye.

I don’t have a perfect way to start this. I’ve stared at the blinking cursor for a while now, trying to gather all the things I want to say into something soft and whole. But endings are strange. They never feel as tidy as we want them to be.

This space has been more than just a Substack. It’s been a quiet corner where I could think out loud. A little journal that met me in the middle of growth, discomfort, reflection, and change. I never set out to make something huge. I just wanted somewhere to write. To feel. To be honest.

And then you showed up.

Somehow, you found these words. Sat with them. Let them breathe in your own heart. I’ve never taken that for granted. Every time someone responded, shared a post, or messaged me saying, “I felt this,” it reminded me that writing isn’t just about speaking. It’s about connection. And you gave me that, in the most beautiful and quiet ways.

You reminded me that there’s softness in the world. That people do still pause to feel, to reflect, to listen. I’m so grateful for that. For you.

Lately, I’ve felt it in my chest that gentle nudge that says this chapter is done. That I’ve poured what I needed to pour here. That it’s time to make space for something else.

This isn’t a goodbye to writing. Or reflection. Or deep dives. Those things live in me, and they always will. But this specific space, this version of me, this voice, this rhythm. It’s time to let it rest.

All posts will be deleted by tomorrow.

This is me closing the door softly. Not in sadness, but with so much peace.

To everyone who made space for my words in their day, who read between the lines and felt something, I appreciate you for that. You were never just “readers.” You were people who held my words with care. You made this feel like more than a newsletter. You made it feel like home.

If anything I wrote ever made you feel seen or held, know that it was written from the same place I hoped you’d feel it in.

It hurts to say goodbye, but somethings have to be end and this is just one of them.

Make du’a for me please. I’ll make du’a for you all too. Thank you for hearing me.

Love,

Imaan Mo.

🚪