BTWN LVRS

Before I ever thought of writing as something formal, I was already doing it.

For as long as I can remember, I wrote everything. I doodled in the margins of notebooks, made up fantasy stories with griffins and unicorns, filled pages with poetry and teenage drama, and kept journals like they were sacred containers. In middle school, had a friend who wrote alongside me, we called ourselves Trouble and Meek. It was sweet, earnest, and serious in the way only young writers can be.

I sent letters in the mail to family and friends. Kept diaries like I was old enough to understand Dear John letters. Even before I had the emotional vocabulary, self-expression felt essential. I wrote from the heart, letting the words hold what I was still learning to understand. Making space for the heart to speak.

I wrote to the boyfriend I had when I went to basic training as if we were living out a long-distance romance from the 1930s. It was dope! I have always been a hopeful romantic and even if it wasn’t always sweet, it was always a teacher. There was something about human connection through writing, through letters that always stayed with me, the slowness of it, the intention, the way words could hold feeling across distance and time.

What you’re reading now is the long arc of that instinct, shaped by time, maturity, experience, observation, and living. Not a reinvention, but a return. A refocusing that finally feels aligned, honest, and settled into itself.

I’ve been listening more than I’ve been speaking.

Not in silence, but in that quieter place where things begin to rearrange themselves. Where words want more room. Where meaning wants less urgency.

So I’m writing to let you know that Letters has been refreshed, not as a rebrand, but as a return.

This space is now being held as it was always meant to be held:

as letters from the desk of a human being thinking, feeling, noticing, and learning in real time.

Some letters will be brief.

Some will take their time.

Some will offer clarity.

Some will simply sit with a question.

All of them are written with care.

This corner of the internet is meant to feel like the family room of the house, warm, lived-in, and open. A place where reflection is welcome, responses are encouraged, and conversation unfolds without titles, labels, or performance.

You’re invited to read, reflect, and respond when something moves you.

There’s no pressure to speak. Presence counts too.

Alongside this space, I’ve also refreshed the main website. That space holds the more structured, informational parts of my work, the formal living room, if you will. It’s there if you’re curious about offerings, the library, or the broader ecosystem this writing belongs to. Before I forget again, I also host a podcast, BTWN LVRS: The Heart & Soul Chronicles. It’s an extension of this same conversation, just spoken instead of written. The podcast holds space for real reflections on love, healing, relationships, identity, and the quiet work of becoming ourselves again. Some episodes are gentle and grounding. Others are honest, searching, and a little raw. All of them are rooted in presence rather than performance. If you ever feel like listening instead of reading, the podcast is there, another room in the same house.

These two spaces are connected, but they serve different purposes.

One is for orientation.

This one is for intimacy.

If you’re new here, welcome.

If you’ve been here before, thank you for returning.

Read slowly.

Take what resonates.

And know that this space is being tended with love, respect, and reverence for our shared humanity.

— Tee