trillion wishesa paper deck of things to say
Random Favorites JUN 2026 25 Calendar
Fresh today · Thursday, 25 June

New Wishes

A handful of wishes pulled from the cabinet this morning. Pick one up — copy, save it to your pinboard, or send it on.

Drawn at dawn
Wishes in the library
92,976

Happy birthday — please save me a slice of cake, and a corner of your heart, and I'll bring the rest of my gratitude in person.

I didn't know how much I'd missed being known until you started knowing me — happy whatever-this-is, my favorite person.

You make me want to be better, but more importantly, you let me be honest — and I didn't know I needed both.

Some days I just sit with the fact that you exist and I get to love you, and it floors me all over again.

I love the small things — your sleepy voice, the way you laugh before the joke lands, your hand finding mine without looking.

You are the soft place at the end of every hard day, and I don't know how I deserve a place that soft.

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What are we writing today?

Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.

More from today

I'd choose you in a hundred different lives, even the ones where I had to wait longer to find you.

You're the kind of love I used to think only existed in songs my mother played too loudly in the car.

I look at you and feel like I'm finally somewhere I was always trying to get to without knowing the address.

Thank you for loving me on the days I'm difficult to love — that's the love I'll remember the longest.

You make ordinary things — coffee, drives, grocery lines — feel like scenes from a life I'm grateful to be inside.

There's a version of me only you've met, and I'm tender about her — she's the truest one, and you handled her gently.

I love how your name has become a small bright thing in my mouth — I say it more often than I need to.

If forever has a face, it's the one you make right before you fall asleep against my shoulder.

You are not what I imagined love would look like — you are something better, quieter, and harder to walk away from.

I love you in the morning before either of us has decided to be charming — and somehow you still are.

Thank you for being a steady kind of love — not loud, not flashy, just relentlessly present, like sunlight through a window.

I keep finding new corners of my heart you've already moved into without asking. You can have them all.

Loving you has made me brave in ways I didn't expect — and gentle in ways I didn't think I could be.

You are the answer to questions I didn't know I was asking — and the asking finally feels worth it.

I love you the way I love long evenings — not in flashes, but in the slow, certain way that lasts past dark.

You don't just hold my heart — you treat it like it's worth holding, and I'm still learning what to do with that.

Every time you laugh, something in me settles — like a room finally finding its right temperature.

I love the way you let me be quiet — and the way the quiet between us never feels like distance.

You're the home I didn't know I was looking for — and I want to spend a long time learning every room.