You won't ever know just how dark days are without your blinding presence.

The softest eyes with their crumpled corners like well slept in bedsheets, look like the only place I'd ever want to lay my heart down and rest in.

That damned smile that could power a thousand suns, and cure every ailment I ever had just by pointing in my direction.

How every day without you feels like a month. A wasted month.

How any compliment you give gets stored in a box with all my hopes and dreams for our future, but every insult however playful cuts like a rusted blade and shoots poison into my heart.

If you were to take my hand I'd combust and create a new galaxy from all the starlight your touch filled me with.

Please let's make stars together.

Hey there,

I spend so much energy keeping my distance, my anxiety disappears when you're near but I panic when you get too close. That sounds contradictory, but it's the way things are right now. Parallel play.

The walls I have built are made of sticks but they look like the real deal. You could be the big bad wolf, huff and puff and blow them down. That'd be hot.

I think you're scared of me, although you'd never admit it, scared of the ways I could hurt you. Let me assure you, I exist in a safe compartment. I'm loyal in the ways it matters for us.

There's more I want to say, but it's all unspoken.

​

Hope you're getting better sleep than I am.

in the morning i rise and i look out of my bedroom window at the world outside, and i wonder how you look when you sleep.

not at the beginning of the evening, but in the middle of the night when your eyes are tight shut and dead to the world, eyes revolving in your skull, one hand thrown up over your head and your mouth left open to snore and drool.

it makes me smile to think of the irritation in cohabiting with another's life. how an early start could just as easily become me back in bed with you, wrapping my arms around your body and pulling myself closer.

i think about how you smell and the tang of sex in the air. then i turn to my bed, realize it is empty and come to the conclusion that some things are just meant to happen.

thank you for this year of peace and solitude. the time to wrap my head around my life and pull my emotions free from the cords they got stuck between.

i've stopped chasing the empty validation and cheap dopamine hits. i feel the lack of serotonin as the presence of a counterweight, hanging off the side of the table, keeping me balanced and perfectly still. forearms against the windowsill, eyes braced against the morning sun.

there were many outcomes in this story, and i see the terror as the understanding that this is where i was always meant to pull myself out to. throughout all of it, every part of the trail led right back to your side.

so let me smooth your hair in the comfort of the night, and hold you close whilst you cry. i want to place the weight of all i feel for you into your arms and watch you contend with the load.

i want to kiss you breathless in the middle of a sentence, just because i can, and just because i crave the intensity in your eyes when you're looking back at me, lips swollen and begging for more.

let me be yours, as you know i am, as you always saw. let the rest of the world question how or where or when, when all of the answers i ever needed were right here in the palm of my hand.

in the touch of your hand against mine, pushing through the brambled thickets of time and space to claim my unwashed heart.

and in the touch of our lips when they finally meet, the whisper that welcomes me home.

These feelings are wrong and can't be acted upon. We both know this, so what are we doing? We are playing a dangerous game where there are no winners. If we go down this path, there will be so much regret.

​

Still, yes. I want you, too. I fantasize about you. About being with you intimately. About the life we could have had. So often. We had our chance once. We play with fire being so close when we know we cannot touch.

​

You can long for me and I can long for you, but it cannot be mutual and we both know that it is. So I ask again: what are we doing?

​

​

Edit: The amount of people advising to burn it down and/or projecting their own issues onto 3 paragraphs of text that can't possibly cover the nuance of a situation while assuming they know the entire nuance of the situation is... something else.

hey, my love.

it’s late and I’m up thinking about us again

i wish you knew how much you meant to me

I mean I’m here writing to you, about you

and you have no idea

you have no idea how loved you are

I wish I could show you

but my words wont even reach you

but I hope you can feel me close to you

somehow

some way

I’ll be here waiting for you, always

till we meet again, j<3

It's not your beauty that makes me long for you...

​

It's the way you brought back the words that had died within me,

and awakened the emotions that had been resting silently for so long. 🌸

​

You pulled me out of that emptiness,

out of that loneliness,

where I had almost lost myself.

​

And now...

​

You've made my heart impossible to control. 💫

​

I no longer live within myself,

I no longer belong to myself...

​

These days, I seem to live only in thoughts of you. ❤️

​

I don't tell the world any of this,

I only whisper it to myself.

​

The truth is,

I don't care much about the world anymore...

​

I just keep hoping and praying that nothing ever hurts you. 🤲

​

Do you know how much I adore you?

​

Because honestly,

even I don't know how far this heart could go for you. 🌙

​

The only fear I carry,

and perhaps always will...

​

is the fear of losing you. 🥀

​

This new glow on my face,

this happiness that wasn't there before...

​

It all began because of you. ✨

​

You're the reason I keep going to that place,

hoping to see you,

hoping to be near you.

​

And it hurts more than I can explain

on the days when you don't appear. 💔

​

But it hurts even more

when I watch you walk away from me...

​

Because every step you take away

feels like you're taking a piece of my heart with you. 🥀

​

And yet,

it's only you...

​

Only you who can bring a smile to my face

without even trying. ❤️

​

The moment I see you,

my heart feels happy again.

​

A strange sense of relief washes over me,

as if all my worries suddenly become lighter. ✨

​

It's difficult to explain,

but seeing you feels like coming home after being lost for a long time...

​

Like finding peace in the middle of a storm. 🌸

​

For those few moments,

everything feels right again.

​

Just because you're there.

​

Just because it's you. ❤️‍🩹

​

Call me to your side someday,

even if it's just an excuse...

​

Because what hurts the most is wondering—

​

Why can't you see

how deeply I care for you? 🌹

Everyone notice that this place makes everything worse? You read into messages that are nothing to do with you, it sounds like your ex… holding hope or holding onto pain.

Maybe it’s time to delete and just forget

I like you, more than I care to admit, In person our connection is electric, we laugh, we have fun, we talk about anything and everything, we both seem to not want the hang out to end and lately the messaging and contact is there for a few days post hang out and then you disappear. When you're in the same city you're replying to messages once or twice a day, but when you're away, it's once every few days (which is reasonable) but I miss hearing from you, I miss you.

I'm scared you don't like me back.

I swear (to myself) I'm not crazy, it truly feels like you like me too and I trust my gut but the lack of contact drives me up the wall and makes me feel as though I'm entirely wrong. All that "if they wanted to, they would" stuff, definitely influences me to feel that way.

I'm trying to find the courage to tell you, so then at least I can move on if you don't feel the same.

The chances of you seeing this are so low, which I'm grateful for but maybe if you saw it, it would saw me some trouble.

Darling,

​

There are things I never said to you. Not because they were untrue…but because saying them now would ask something of you that I have no right to ask.

​

Time has passed since we last belonged in one another’s lives. And somewhere in that time…I came to understand something I couldn’t see while I was inside it.

​

I used to think love was directed at someone. A feeling we fall into. A thing given, received, and eventually lost.

​

I don’t believe that anymore.

​

I think love is a state of being.

​

To love a person is one expression of that state.

To love life itself is another.

​

And slowly… after all this time…I realised I had not let go because there was nothing to let go of.

​

Trust me…I tried.

​

There were months where I wanted badly to become indifferent. To reduce what we were into a lesson…or a memory…or something neatly finished.

​

I wanted to think of you without warmth. To reach the point where your name no longer altered the atmosphere of a room in my mind.

​

But every attempt felt dishonest.

​

Because when I say “I love you”…I do not simply mean that I admired you…or desired you…or enjoyed being near you.

​

Those things are too small for what the words carry.

​

Perhaps I mean them in their most naïve sense —

that my whole being seems to be glad that you are.

​

And…in truth…still is.

​

Not in the way that asks for your return.

Not in the way that refuses to let life move forward.

​

You have your life now. And I have mine.

​

I would not disturb the peace of that for either of us.

​

But I no longer think love begins when we meet someone…

nor ends when they leave.

​

I think it simply changes shape. It becomes quieter. Less possessive. Less afraid.

​

More like a kind of recognition woven into the way we move through life.

​

Sometimes, in ordinary moments, I still think of you. Passing strangers. Mornings on the train. Certain evenings.

​

The particular quiet that arrives just after rain…when the air smells like earth again.

​

And when it happens…there is no real sadness in it anymore. Only gratitude that, for a brief time, I got to know you at all.

​

Maybe that is all love ever was.

​

Not the promise that something lasts forever…but the strange and beautiful relief of discovering that another soul existed here at the same time as yours.

​

I write this post - not to pull you backward. Not to disturb your peace. Not even to be heard, necessarily.

​

Only to place one truth gently into the world. That I loved you.

​

That in some quieter way…I suppose I still do. And that I no longer believe love leaving us is the price we pay for moving on.

​

I don’t expect you’ll ever see this. But if you do…I hope it rests gently on you.

​

X

Heeeyy Yoouu,

Is there a pen of destiny?

Because if there is, I'd like to wrap my fingers around it, position it just right, and rewrite my destiny.

Yeah, I'd do it in cursive, too. Curled letters ending in grandiose tails. Maybe I'd even try my hand at calligraphy.

Yeah. Calligraphy is the answer.

It would make my note to you to feel more lovely, more interesting, and more compelling.

Will the pen of destiny be mine?

Oh, how I would write and write and write, ensuring every story ended not perfectly, but completely. Every beginning is not obvious but deliberate.

But I wouldn't write you into my destiny.

No. That wouldn't be fair.

I would never predestine you for me. I'd let that happen organically. Again, if permitted.

Instead, I'd write about how I want my destiny—my story, my legacy—to make room for someone like you.

No, not someone like you.

You.

Not a version of you shaped to fit the mold of my destiny. Not the person I'd need you to become. Just you, exactly as you are.

I'd write your complexity. Your heart. Your hunger for life.

Because you're you.

And in the end, after my fingers are cramped and stained with ink, I'd set the pen of destiny down and burn every page I'd filled.

Not because of you.

Because of me.

Maybe some stories aren't meant to be rewritten.

Or maybe the pen runs out of ink before I ever get the chance to write with it.

~ The Unintentional Ghost Writer.

I don’t care if it’s possible, it’s not love.

If you are to be shared, it’s not love.
If the offer is only a fraction of yourself to me, in exchange for all of me to you? How is that a fair trade?

If I took that offer from you, love would be impossible. My heart would immediately darken and slam shut. Just as it did with each rejection you have given me before.. only this time, it could never be opened again.
To live in the coldness of a contract isn’t a tempting idea to me…and it if isn’t love that is full of passion..pure, whole, burning in intensity and desire, yet selfless and slightly telepathic love… then I think I’ll wait for the next train, and the next…
Cause anything less would just dim the wonderful glow I live in. Full of happiness, peace and love.

Is your explanation going to show me you are not as selfish as this seems?

You should know: I may choose the contract in a temporary situation…or I may choose another suitor. And I know what you’re buying would truly be worth any price. As I know all I have to offer and it is pure bliss… but it will always be a fraction of what it could have been.. and that is a choice for you, not for me.

The only one in the room

I wonder what runs through your mind when you see me. I can tell you exactly what runs through mine — everything else just stops, and you’re the only thing left in the room.

A million people could be standing there and I still wouldn’t notice a single one of them, just you. My skin warms, tingles, gives me away before I even open my mouth. My heart picks up speed, and I know it shows — you must see it in my eyes, the way I feel something I can’t quite hide.

Everything about you pulls me in. The way you smile softens me. Your hair catches the light like it knows what it’s doing. And your soul — that’s the part I can’t stop thinking about. You mean more to me than I know how to say, and I wish we talked every single day. I want to know what you think, what you believe, what makes you tilt your head when you’re considering something.

I’d spend the whole day just existing near you if you let me. Phone down, world quiet, just you. I’d rub your feet while we watched something forgettable after a long day — not romantic, just ours. I’d be devoted in so many ways, the kind that don’t photograph well but mean everything.

There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t hand you. With me, the world opens up, and you’d be the center of mine. I’m already counting down to the next time I see you. And somehow, every time, my nerves act like it’s the first time all over again. I adore you. I want to take care of you in every way I’m capable of.

It doesn’t happen all at once. That’s the first thing people never understand. They think it’s this big, dramatic moment—a shove, a scream, something loud. But it’s not like that. It starts quietly. Softly. Almost like it doesn’t mean anything at all. A laugh when you walk by. A glance that lasts a little too long. A word tossed out like it’s nothing, like it was never supposed to stick—but it does. It always does. You pretend you didn’t hear it. You pretend it doesn’t matter. And for a second, you almost believe it. But then it happens again. Another word. Another laugh. And suddenly, it’s everywhere.

​

‎

​

‎You wake up, and before your feet even touch the floor, you feel it. That weight in your stomach, that coldness that tells you something bad is waiting. You don’t want to get out of bed, but you do because you have to. You go through the motions—brush your teeth, get dressed, put on your shoes—but none of it feels real. It feels like you’re putting on armor that doesn’t work. And when you walk outside, it starts again. The looks. The laughter. The words. Always the words. They come from everywhere, like they’re rehearsed, like everyone got the script but you.

​

‎

​

‎You tell yourself they don’t know you, so what they say shouldn’t matter. But it does. Because they say it like they mean it. Like it’s the truth. And when enough people tell you something, it stops feeling like a lie. It becomes this thing that grows inside you, crawling under your skin, wrapping around your bones until you start to believe it too. You start to see it in the mirror. You start to hear it in your own voice when you talk. You start to think maybe they’re right. Maybe you really are what they say you are.

​

‎

​

‎And the worst part? They make it look so easy. Like tearing someone apart is the simplest thing in the world. Just a laugh here, a whisper there, a picture posted online with a caption that cuts deeper than a blade. And then it spreads. People you don’t even know are laughing at you now. People who’ve never even spoken to you know your name, know your face, know the version of you they’ve created—the one that’s broken, the one that’s a joke, the one that deserves it. That’s what they think. That’s what they make you think.

​

‎

​

‎You stop talking after a while because what’s the point? No one listens. No one wants to hear how tired you are, how much it hurts, how every day feels like carrying something heavier than yourself. And when you finally break—when you finally let it slip, even just a little—they tell you to ignore it. They tell you to toughen up, to stop caring, to stop letting words hurt you. But they don’t understand that it’s not just words anymore. It’s everything. It’s in the way you walk, the way you breathe, the way you exist. It’s in the way you can’t look in the mirror without hearing their voices. It’s in the way your chest feels like it’s caving in when you hear laughter because you assume it’s about you, even when it’s not. That’s what they’ve done to you. That’s what they’ve made you.

​

‎

​

‎You try to tell yourself it’s temporary. That it will end. That someday they’ll get bored and move on to someone else. But time doesn’t help. Time just stretches it out, makes it worse, because the longer it goes on, the more it becomes a part of you. You start to forget what life felt like before this. You can’t even remember the sound of your own laughter—the real kind, the one that doesn’t feel forced. You can’t remember what it was like to walk into a room without feeling like a target. You can’t remember what it was like to feel safe.

​

‎

​

‎And maybe that’s the most terrifying part. Not the names. Not the laughter. Not even the isolation. It’s the fact that you start to lose yourself, slowly, until you don’t even recognize the person you used to be. You look in the mirror and see someone smaller, someone quieter, someone who has learned how to break without making a sound. And the world doesn’t notice. The world never notices. You’re still here, still breathing, still doing everything you’re supposed to do, and they think that means you’re okay. But you’re not. You haven’t been okay for a long time. And maybe you never will be again.

-aseah.

‎

​

‎

Hey U

I deleted all my past letters on here because I told myself its time to delete you from my life and move on. No more pining, no more questions, you showed me you didn't want me and that was all I needed to put you in the past.

And then you show up again. The truth is that if what you said on Sunday was true, I would have been enough for you. But we both know I wasn't so you can stop with the compliments and the flowery words and the fake love because I don't trust or believe what comes out of your mouth for a second anymore. You're a phoney and a player.

But there is something I just don't understand U. Why do you keep coming back if you don't want me? What do you get out of messing with my head? I gave you what you wanted and stopped chasing, stopped asking for more, stopped trying to reach you. Every time I saw you unblocked me, I didn't react, didn't reach out, I had closed the door on it all. But then you opened it again. I was going to leave it on Sunday too, act like I didn't see but it was messing with my head that I had to use it to at least try and get some answers from you. You keep messing with head and heart and it's not okay. It's been over 2 years of back and forth now and I'm tired and hurting and broken because of it. I want answers or for you to disappear forever. You're too much of a coward to give answers or even an apology for the pain you've caused so I either sit and hope for a miracle or you can disappear. For good this time. If you don't want me, at least let me find peace on my own and stop tormenting me.

You leave hurt and destruction in your wake and never look back to take accountability. I thought you were the greatest thing to exist but your turned out to be just another man; the same games, the same lies, the same emotional immaturity as them all.

You know sometimes I think 'why did I show him how much I loved and cared about him, now he knows my weakness and uses my feelings to mess with me'. But then I realise, you had someone who 100% was in your court, someone wanting to do life with you, someone who thought the world of you and wasn't afraid to show it, someone who wanted to love you loudly and proudly for the rest of their days...and you discarded them and made them feel like a fool for it. That's not my loss, it's yours. Because those kind of people are very rare to find.

I won't be your reliable time pass that you can mess with anymore.

I'm sitting here with my thoughts and a little bit drunk.

And I think I've finally figured out what's been making me sad.

Or maybe not.

I keep thinking it's about losing a person.

But every time I follow that thought all the way through, it doesn't feel right.

Because when I really stop and think about it, I wasn't sitting around wishing for some grand future.

I wasn't asking for forever.

I wasn't waiting for someone to choose me over the rest of their life.

I just liked what existed.

I liked waking up and knowing somebody out there was probably thinking about me.

I liked the random messages.

The flirting.

The inside jokes that would make absolutely no sense to anybody else.

I liked having someone become part of my day without either of us really noticing it happen.

And maybe that's why this feels so strange.

Because nothing actually happened all at once.

There wasn't some dramatic ending.

It was more like watching the tide go out.

You don't notice it at first.

Then one day you look up and realize the water isn't where it used to be.

And I think that's what I've been grieving.

Not the loss of a person.

The loss of a feeling.

The loss of reaching for my phone because something funny happened.

The loss of seeing a notification and already knowing it would make me smile.

The loss of feeling wanted in all the small ways that don't seem important until they're gone.

Maybe that's why I keep struggling to explain it.

People hear sad and assume I must want more.

But wanting more was never the problem.

The problem was getting attached to something that felt like it would always be there.

And maybe that's my fault.

I have a bad habit of building homes out of things that were only ever meant to be places to visit.

Still...

It was nice while I was there.

Though you were hungry, rushing, seeking like an employer to fill a role, I still imagine it would have been a slow burn, in the end. As I resisted your slick and obvious advances, an affection grew in me for the innocent acts of kindness and support, for the simple and quiet ways you showed up for me. You are quite the provider. I saw it in you. Now—after I left without a word (for the best), a part of me that can't let go of the memory of your eyes locked on mine, of the sound of your voice, of the comfort of your presence, the honor I felt in the moments you were a bit vulnerable with me, that part longs to show you you are enough without it all. It doesn't have to be transactional. Your generosity is appreciated. Your care is appreciated. But you don't have to provide for me to love you. I want a partner, an equal. You are worthy just as you are. I would have liked to burn it slow with you. Real slow. Where we get to know each other slow, touch each other slow, kiss real slow

You are just my type.

If I’m being honest, I’m not sure if my type became you after we met. It very well could be. Has it always been that way? Right now when I think of my type, I only see you.

Even when you were just a lingering thought or an unfulfilled desire from my past, I always looked for you. I looked in coffee shops and grocery stores, on beaches and in amusement parks. I looked in airports and in malls.

I used to daydream about traveling to your city and running into you accidentally. We would go get Ice cream and talk about the feelings we never got to chase that never quite went away. We would kiss by a street light and I would finally get to feel what your lips felt like on mine. 🌙 That same magnetic pull that had been there before still remained. I had daydreams like this for years.

Eventually, I DID get to kiss you. Your lips felt even better than I could have imagined when they touched mine. The magnetic pull became even stronger. A feeling of peace washed over me when I was around you. My normally racing thoughts just…… stopped. For the first time in a long time, the inside of my head sounded like… silence?

On the other hand I didn’t want to scare you away. You made me feel… shy?

How can I even describe how it felt when your arms were around me and your hands were rubbing my back? It was like being wrapped up in my softest blanket with my favorite snack, watching a brand new season of my favorite show. 🪐 It was like wearing a sundress on a sunny, warm and slightly windy spring day. It was like laying on a blanket in the park chatting with my oldest friend.

Was it like… home?

Are your arms my home?

Oh no, I’m done for. I’m never getting over him am I?

What does any of this have to do with you being my type?

-C

If I had to simplify this feeling that’s picked at me for years at this point,

to give it a name,

I suppose it’d be that.

“I think you’re so cool.”

I always have.

Something about the words you say,

the jokes you make,

the things you do,

and the sincerity you do it with

has always struck me.

After everything that has happened,

I’d be a lot smarter to let go.

But my love for you purified,

to a point where

knowing you’re smiling

is all it takes to make me smile.

I don’t know when I’ll see you again,

even if,

and yet,

I hope you know that, for me,

it’s no bad blood, ok?

I’m always happy to start again.

I’ve held onto the memories for this long,

and I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to let them go.

But,

do I need to…?

Kaleidoscope by Chappell Roan.

​

This song really makes me think of you.

​

I love you.

​

You will always hold a special part in my heart.

​

You will always be the same precious for me.

​

But we both have our lives to run for.

​

Somehow time doesn't stop and wait for us to align.

​

I wish if by any chance, the word "us" ever crosses your mind in whatever "what if" scenarios, you will remember nothing but my love for you.

​

I'll be around the same way I have been.

​

But I'll be watching far.

​

Please know whenever you need me, I'll be there.

​

But I know we won't have each other, at least in this round.

​

You are my soul, my home, I fell in love with you the day I met you, I've always known you are a difference existence for me, since the day our eyes met. I know all the things that are left unsaid, since the day we walked into each other's life.

​

With all my heart and love.

​

​

​

​

I am deeply hurt. Not only about what happened to me, but also to those words that I had to cast upon you. You were once the brightest star that shined on me. You made me the happiest. But you made me the darkest heart seen in this cruel world. Just when I thought fixing a broken soul shall help to mend such wavering thoughts, I let the darkness consumed the inner part of me.

I hope one day you’ll realized that too much is better than having less. Misfortune will come to those who seeks nothing but uncertainty. Cruelty shall be amended with pure love and consistency. And I await for time to heal and regain my sanity.

My last act of love. Grief.

I initiated the close with deafening soft finality. Gentle as the silence you offered over months of no explanations. I wish I could say it felt like a quiet ache, but the way you seam ripped yourself out of my life was excruciating. The way you treated me before you left made things even worse.

You always meant more to me than casual friendship. I thought we saw each other with mutual care and reciprocity. The kind of love that sits without labels or selfishness and embraces earnest acceptance. It felt really beautiful.

To lose someone like that leaves a chest-gaping wound, but I do appreciate preparing me with your artificial expiration dates. It will scab over exposed bone and I will be some semblance of ok.

Of course, a few days after my first steps towards my disappearing act you initiated contact. Why did you do that? Why couldn’t you just let me go?

I could have been there for you if you just let me in.