A few things have clicked. I'd like to talk with you about them. Ithis is something that I want to talk about first.

You really don't know just how much you mean to me. When I say that you are worth it, I mean it with every inch of my heart and soul. The way you care, and the way you listen. It really does make a difference. I want you to know that I will always stick by your side. I take up for you in rooms you've never even walked in to and to people you've never even met or talked to, and I don't think a person alive could question where my loyalties lie. You have proven to me just how important I am to you, and you've stuck by my side through everything we've been through. You've made it a point to love me when I was at my worst, and being your best friend makes me feel like I am something that means something. Like I am something that means something substantial.

You don't ever have to worry whether I am your friend or if I still care. You are one of those extraordinary and special people that the wise always tell you to watch out for and that if you're lucky you will meet. I find you to hold a priceless value to me and my life, and anything I can do to help make your life better, please know that I will do it. The way we have stuck by one another is the kind of thing you hear about in fairytales. The fact that we have remained the best of friends speaks to just how precious we find one another, and I just want to thank you from the absolute bottom of my heart for loving me the way you do.

Please trust that I'll be there.

Please lean on me when you need to.

I can't show you I'm here for you if you don't let me.

I just love you.

I know that you love me, too.

I want to message you but I don't know if what you have shown me is normal for you. I never share anything with anyone unless I'm interested. I love our talks or just sitting close to you. Do you feel the same way? We absolutely don't have to rush. My wish is only for our friendship to bloom into something special. I have a feeling that something beautiful is going to happen if we keep heading in this direction. What do you think? ❤️

Nothing will stop me from searching from trying from hoping to find you again. The gates of hell themselves haven't yet.

i think it's just a touch insane that you've just read me like a book, and you were only joking. i've never been anything shy of truly impressed with the way you so perfectly strike a chord when a moment such as this happens. like you can see straight through me with your eyes, but your head and your heart don't seem to notice you doing it.

you've said exactly the right things, and i'll be on cloud nine for days. maybe you were completely honest in your banter and jokes. maybe you will make that jump, that leap of faith, that "this is no longer a joke or a bit and hasn't been in quite some time" dive that i cannot.

i love you in so many more complex ways than i will never be able to share with you. words could not do it justice; though if they could, they'd have no place here anyhow given the circumstances.

i love you. i hope you see these and know they're from me. i hope you never see them at all. i hope you think the same as i do. i suspect you might, or rather, that you might at least know a little bit that i am, in fact, very in love with every part of you. farewell for now, my love <3

I don’t know how to say I’m sorry. I only know how to show it but I can’t show someone who turns a blind eye and gives me their back.

For my reaction. For the words I let my pain choose. For the ways I made it harder to hear what I was trying to tell you.

I was hurting. I still am. But you deserved better than the way it came out.

I wish you had seen me before I boiled over. In the quiet. In the long pauses when I was trying to swallow something that wouldn’t go down. When I reached for you because I couldn’t find the words, then put my hand back in my lap.

I know the good I’ve done doesn’t erase the wrong. I’m only asking you to remember that both belong to me. The person who hurt you is also the person who loved you, who showed up, who wanted so badly to get this right.

I wanted a new life with you. Somewhere we could unpack our bags and stop living like one of us might leave.

You wanted that, too.

I keep returning to that word. Wanted. Such a small change for something that takes the whole future with it.

Now I’m asking you to forgive me while I turn around, because I don’t know how to keep standing here, hoping you’ll ask me to stay.

There is nothing proud about this walk. I am leaving with things I still want to tell you. With the instinct to turn back every time I hear something behind me. With no idea what to do with the part of my day that used to belong to you.

Tomorrow, something small will happen, and you’ll still be the first person I want to tell.

That is the emptiness I don’t know how to prepare for.

Please forgive me for the hurt I caused. I mean that, even if forgiveness never brings us back to each other.

And somewhere between your door and wherever I go next, I know I’ll ask myself:

How far do I have to go for you to see I am gone?

I won’t turn around to find out.

But God, I’ll want to.

Tell me why your memories are slipping away

Remind me of what it is to be chosen

Bring us back into the forefront.

Please.

Now is the time

Im ready now.

I wasnt before and it looked like indifference- it was fear

Fear of losing myself with you

I found myself lost in the thought- the longing-

But, actually

Irl.

I think we do have alot in common, really.

I know you werent ready either.

I know you procrastinate with side quests.

Lose yourself in the online world as if it cant hurt you

And you know something?

Im actually down with that.

You know how i am with jealousy- its not necessary and I would never let it consume me. We've come this far so you will know.

And i realised, that I am secure enough and open enough, to let you do the things you enjoy doing without jealousy or fear..

Because ive seen the way you look at me.

And to me, that is enough.

I think I know the truth, I just don't want to admit it.

I don't love her. At least, I don't think I do. She came too close at a time when I was lonely, and I let her. Maybe I wanted someone to fill the emptiness, someone to make me feel wanted, someone to remind me that I could still feel something. I don't know if I ever wanted her, or if I just wanted what she made me feel.

And the worst part is that she makes me melt. I can pretend I don't care, pretend she's just another person, pretend there's nothing there, but something about her gets through to me. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the attraction, maybe it's the intimacy, maybe it's the strange comfort of having someone close enough to make the world feel a little less empty.

But is that love? I don't think so.

I think I want her sometimes, but I don't know if I want her. There's a difference, and I'm afraid I know which side I'm on.

Perhaps I used her without ever intending to. Perhaps I let myself get attached to the feeling of being wanted, knowing I couldn't promise to want her in the same way. I didn't plan to hurt anyone. I just didn't stop to think that my loneliness could become someone else's heartbreak.

I hate admitting that. I want to believe I'm better than that, that I wouldn't let someone get close just because I needed the warmth. But intentions don't change what I might have done. Being lonely doesn't make me innocent, and being confused doesn't make me incapable of hurting someone.

I don't know if there's something more than sexual attraction. I keep looking for it, as if naming whatever I feel might make it easier to live with. But maybe I'm searching for a feeling that simply isn't there. Maybe I want to love her because it would make everything simpler. Maybe I want my attraction to mean something more because the alternative makes me feel like a selfish bastard.

Or maybe I'm just afraid of being alone again.

I don't know.

And I think that's what bothers me most. Not that I don't love her, but that I don't know why I keep letting her close. I don't know what I want from her, and I don't know whether I'm willing to give her anything that she might want from me.

I wish I could say I'm a good person who just made a mistake. I wish I could say that my feelings are complicated, that there's some hidden tenderness waiting to reveal itself, that one day I'll understand why she makes me feel this way.

But I don't want to invent a prettier truth just because the real one makes me look ugly.

Maybe I am selfish. Maybe I'm lonely. Maybe I'm capable of feeling desire without love, affection without commitment, and tenderness without wanting a future with someone.

Maybe I can make someone melt into me while feeling nothing close to what they're feeling.

And maybe the ugliest thing about me is that I can recognize all of this and still not know if I want to let her go.

I don't know if that makes me a bad person.

But I know I need to stop pretending that not knowing makes me a harmless one.

On god I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m straight up fiending for you. I’m so HUNGRY I want that cookie BADDDD lmao! I miss our talks. You know the ones. I’ve been thinking of you in a very below her mouth type way… to be able to…ugh I just wish you’d tell me you feel the same. Tell me you miss me. Tell me you want me. Tell me anything. 

Take me without saying a word. Let our bodies say the things only hearts have heard. Pull my body close to yours, feel my heart beat through my chest. Put your mouth on mine, I bet your kisses are the best. Take your time as you feel my body. Looking in your eyes, our breath getting heavy, I redirect your hand where I want it. Keep doing it just like that. Can’t you feel that I’m ready?

When the sun shines at the perfect angle, they turn gold.

I am sure you can relate.

I am in this limbo of not knowing whether to call you a lover or a friend.

I have been preparing for the inevitable.

Maybe this "pull" between us is one-sided.

Although, I am intuitive, and sometimes the things you do to make your presence known still feel intentional.

Maybe we are just two people who took the risk of blurring the lines and are now trying to find restraint.

The truth is, I don't know why I am feeling what I am feeling.

Maybe I do, but I am trying to protect myself from the inevitable.

But what is the inevitable?

Do we even know?

Every time you pass by, my heart wakes up.

Every time you see me, your face lights up.

Is this all in my head?

Have I completely lost my mind?

Also, I can't help but feel as though the people around us are seeing it, too.

Two people who are known to be reserved and professional, but for some reason, come out of their shells the moment they are in close proximity to each other.

The most mature of the bunch, acting like children with one another.

The truth is, I don't know whether to call you a lover or a friend.

Because the bantering, laughing, and being goofy together are the best parts of our interactions.

It feels like the way you would act with one of your best friends, someone you never have to mask who you are around.

Two friends who admire and appreciate each other's existence.

Who manage to have professional and intellectual conversations while still being complete goofballs together.

But then... there's the attraction part.

The pull.

Because if I were to be fully honest in this moment...

A vacation together would probably be the best week or weekend of our lives.

For two people who need control, I find myself fighting against restraint.

An unsent letter from a woman to a man.

Where do we go from here when personal circumstances have different plans?

I guess I am looking for a sign... maybe from you or the universe, giving me permission to let go of control.

I am sure you'd love that, you freak 😉

I’ll never love anyone like I loved you. Not even if I were to love you again.

I’ve decided I’m going to do it.

Staying in this “situationship” isn’t even worth it anymore… and I say situationship lightly. It’s less than that. And the fact of the matter is, I’ve come a long way. I won’t move any further if I keep selling myself short & accepting less than I deserve.

I love myself enough but more than that - just because I’ve been in this rut for a long time, doesn’t mean I have to stay here. I can decide when to get off and the answer is now. I know where I want to go & it’s no longer here…

​

If you want this love of mine

Treat me gentle and treat me kind

Don't be mean and don't be bad

And you'll get the truest love that you ever had

If you want my lips to kiss

Cuddle close and don't resist

Lovin' you is all I crave

And if you let me, pretty baby,

I'll be your slave

If you want this love of mine

Baby, come on and get it

If you should fall in love with me

I'll bet you will never regret it

Not a thing I wouldn't do

I'll do anything just for you

Just let me know that you're really mine

and I'll love you pretty baby till the end of time-🎶

I keep myself in this cycle and it’s slowly killing me. I wish I could get out. I know I need to get out. The constant ups and downs are eating me. I feel you get close to me only to pull away again. We get somewhere and then you push me away. Over and over again.

You don’t really treat me that well. You’re kind of a dick to me and will literally insult me, then mask it as “sarcasm”. (That’s not sarcasm…thats called being an asshole by the way). You never seem fully present when you’re with me. You’re distant and cold. You hold me away at arms length. I feel like you’re keeping a lot from me.

You can be sweet sometimes. I think maybe, more than anything, I like that you need me. As fucked up as that sounds. I know you’re going through hell right now. I know I’m there for you more than anyone else, so I give myself to you until I’ve poured everything and I feel like nothing but a hollow shell. I do it because I love you and I would give anything to see you smile. I would give every last part of me just to see you a little bit more happy. And I guess I keep hoping that the more I give, the more you’ll realize that I really do love you. I’m still afraid to tell you how much I actually love and care about you because I know you would just push me away…then reel me back in

I know you don’t have the capacity for anything with me right now. I know I’m slowly giving myself away until I’m just as empty inside. I see the life draining from me as time goes on, but I can’t stop. I can’t end it. Being in this with you hurts me. But I’ve also tried to leave…and that also hurts. Either way, I’m hurting. I just wish it could stop. I wish I could take my life back again

I would just want to cuddle. Lay my head on your chest while you rub my back. I have so much to say to you yet nothing at all.

But you aren’t here. And you never will be

Hey!

I’m not sure where you’ve wandered off to, but I’d just like to say that you are very much missed.

You make ordinary words sound like they’ve just checked into a five-star hotel.

Please come back, you adorable little collection of vowels. The English language is terribly boring without you.

Sincerely,
Someone who misses you.

Are we ever going to talk about or act on whatever this is? Or are we just going to keep looking at each other like this. You know I want you….. keep looking at me like that. I like it! If you ever reach for me. I might not be able to stop, so Be careful.

Maybe I'm more hopeful than i thought maybe I truly am just a romantic at heart, maybe my callused cold nature it's truly all a front, but I dont know... I think too many people are defeatist giving up before even trying. So closed minded they can't imagine an outcome other than the tragic one they've imagined, if you want the opposite go after it? If you think there may be any small chance why not take it, because that's all it takes. Go after passion, go after love, go after that which makes you feel. Because too many don't even know what that can be like; to really need, crave, and feel don't throw such a feeling away without trying. If you truly care about something you must put your ego aside, you must have courage, that is the true test.

I don't know when I started looking forward to your posts.

Perhaps it was before I knew I was looking forward to them. Before I began recognizing the little things—the way you phrased a thought, the photographs you chose to share, the moments when you seemed to have something to say but left it unfinished.

Or perhaps it began the first time I realized that I could reply.

Such a small thing, isn't it? A little space beneath your words where mine could exist, too. A place where I could say something to you without having to find a reason to approach you in the world outside that screen.

I wonder if you ever thought about what that space meant to someone like me.

Perhaps not. Perhaps it was only a feature, another way of allowing people to participate in the little world you had made. Perhaps you opened the replies because you liked hearing from people, because you enjoyed a conversation, because there was nothing more to it than that.

I understand.

At least, I tell myself that I do.

Still, there is something peculiar about being given a place to speak to someone without knowing whether you have ever truly been invited into their life.

I could reply to your photograph. I could make a joke about something you wrote. I could tell you that a sentence you shared stayed with me longer than it probably should have. And if you answered, I could answer again.

Just like that, we could have a conversation.

A thread.

A small succession of words, one after another, making a path between two people who might otherwise have remained strangers.

And I think that is what fascinated me most: how easily words could make us closer, and how little that closeness might mean beyond the place where we left them.

I could learn the sound of your thoughts without ever hearing your voice. I could grow familiar with the way you expressed yourself without knowing how you looked at someone when you were trying not to smile. I could spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about a sentence you had probably forgotten writing.

I could become acquainted with the smallest pieces of you that you chose to leave behind.

And still, I would have to admit that I did not know you.

Not really.

There is a distance that exists between two people who have never spoken, and another that exists between two people who have spoken but have nowhere to go from there.

I think the second distance is worse.

Because now there are words to remember. There are moments that can be revisited. There is the dangerous possibility that something has begun, even when neither person has said that it has.

And there is always the question of whether you felt it, too.

Sometimes I wonder whether you ever leave your replies open and wait.

Not necessarily for me. I would never be so presumptuous. Perhaps you wait for someone whose name you already know by heart. Perhaps you wait for a friend, a familiar voice, or simply the pleasant surprise of hearing something thoughtful from a stranger.

Perhaps you don't wait at all.

But I have imagined what it would be like if you did.

If, somewhere between posting a photograph and returning to your day, you wondered whether a particular person would say something. If you checked your notifications without admitting to yourself that you were looking for one name. If you ever wrote something with the quiet hope that someone, somewhere, would understand what you could not bring yourself to say directly.

I have imagined it because I know what it is like to want to say something and then spend the rest of the day pretending that I never wanted to.

It is a strange thing, wanting to be noticed by someone you are afraid to approach.

You begin with harmless intentions. You tell yourself that you simply enjoy their presence, that there is nothing wrong with appreciating someone's photographs or finding their words interesting. You tell yourself that a reply is only a reply, that a conversation is only a conversation.

And perhaps, in the beginning, that is true.

But then you begin to notice the space between their words.

You wonder what they meant. You wonder what they didn't mean. You wonder whether a response was simply polite or whether, for one brief moment, they were as curious about you as you were about them.

You become an expert at asking questions that have no answers.

And the worst part is that no one has done anything wrong.

You have not been promised anything. They have not asked you to wait. No confession has been made, no affection declared, no future imagined aloud.

There is only this small place where your words can meet.

And somehow, it becomes a place you keep returning to.

I think I would like to know you outside of it.

That is the simplest way I can say it, though it took me a long time to understand what I meant.

I would like to know what your voice sounds like when you are tired. What makes you laugh when you aren't trying to be interesting. Whether you speak as thoughtfully as you write, or whether you are wonderfully different when there is no time to revise a sentence before sending it.

I would like to know the things you never post.

Not because I believe that the pieces of yourself you share are somehow insufficient, but because I have begun to understand that a person is always larger than the version of themselves that reaches us.

And you, in particular, have become larger in my imagination than I know how to justify.

Perhaps that is unfair to you.

Perhaps I have taken a handful of words and photographs and built a person around them, someone who might not resemble you at all. Perhaps the distance has allowed me to feel things I would have been too uncertain to feel if I had known you better.

There is safety in wanting someone from afar.

You can be sincere without being exposed. You can be hopeful without having to explain yourself. You can let a feeling grow in the privacy of your own mind, where nothing can contradict it except the occasional reminder that the other person has a life in which you may not occupy any meaningful place.

I know this.

I know how easy it is to mistake the opportunity for a conversation for the promise of a connection.

Still, I cannot quite bring myself to regret the words I have imagined saying to you.

Perhaps that is all this confession is: an acknowledgment that, for a little while, the possibility of speaking to you made the world feel more open.

You gave people a place to leave their words.

I found myself wishing that mine might become familiar to you.

Not extraordinary. Not unforgettable. I never needed to be the most interesting person who replied, or the one whose words made you stop everything you were doing.

I think I only wanted to become someone you recognized.

Someone whose name you could see and think, Oh, it's them.

Someone you might answer not because you felt obliged to, but because you wanted to know what they would say next.

And if that never happened, if I remained only another name among the replies, I suppose I would have to learn how to accept that, too.

Because you never promised me a place in your life.

You only left a little space beneath your words.

And I was the one who began to imagine a world beyond it.

Sometimes, I think about how strange it is that we can be so close to the possibility of someone and still remain impossibly far from the person themselves.

I could send you a message tonight. You might read it tomorrow. You might smile, answer, and give me something to smile about in return.

We might even begin a conversation that lasts longer than either of us expected.

And for a little while, the distance would seem smaller.

But then the conversation would end. We would return to our separate lives, and I would be left wondering whether the words had brought us closer or merely made me more aware of how far apart we were.

I don't know if you have ever wondered about me.

I don't know if you have ever looked at a reply and felt that there might be a person behind it worth knowing.

I don't know if you are waiting for anyone at all.

And perhaps that is why I have not yet found the courage to tell you any of this.

Because the moment I ask, I must be prepared for an answer.

For now, I can live with the uncertainty. I can let your words arrive when they arrive, let mine remain unsent when I cannot think of anything worth saying, and pretend that the distance between us is simply the distance between two people who happen to occupy the same little corner of the internet.

But if I am being honest—and I think a confession ought to begin there—sometimes I wish you knew.

Not everything. Not the hours I have spent thinking about things you probably never intended anyone to think about. Not the conversations I have rehearsed and abandoned, or the number of times I have convinced myself that a simple message would be too much and then wondered whether my silence has made me invisible.

Just this:

That somewhere among the people who read your words, there is someone who has come to look forward to them.

Someone who has wondered what might happen if a reply became a conversation, and a conversation became something neither of you had to invent excuses to continue.

Someone who knows that an open door is not an invitation, that kindness is not a confession, and that being allowed to speak to you does not mean being known by you.

Someone who understands all of that and still, occasionally, hopes.

Perhaps you will never know who I am in this story.

Perhaps you will never know that there was a story at all.

And maybe that is the saddest thing about all these words: they have brought me close enough to imagine you listening, but not close enough to know whether you ever would.

So I will leave this here, in the only place I have ever known how to approach you.

Among the words.

Not as a question you must answer, nor as a feeling you must return.

Only as a confession.

I think I wanted to know you.

And somewhere along the way, without ever really meeting you, I began to wish that you might want to know me, too.

Dear you, if you're ever struggling right now . I want you to know you've struggled way more before. right now ,girl, everyone is ahead of you , your depression is treated by you and people around like a case study to whether you actually need therapy or not and you're having your acedmic downfall . pretty shitty right ? So , you who doesn't know her worth , I want you to know -from where I stand- it was worth every penny . It was woth every hour and every gamble and risk you took . I pretty sure you're too numb to cry to tired to try to see what works best but I'm also sure you were worth it . please don't give up on yourself . from here , I feel your suffocation , the burnout , the loniless , the -why does the world act so cruel . Where is the fair rightouse people in this world ,you must wonder long before you understand you are one of those people . You are capable ,worthy of unconditional love , your reslient . take care of yourself . sleep tight ,and remeber and repeat after me :

I will do it

With the might of a lion

I will do it

broken

I'll do it bleeding

I'll do it scared , I'll do it healed

I'll do it healing , I'll do it crying

I'll do it brave . I'll do it a coward

but one way or another I shall do it !

I hope everything works out for you girl !

When I read that sentence my stomach dropped.
Because I knew I had to walk away.
Not because I necessarily wanted to, but because I had to choose myself in that moment.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t impact me, it did.
You told me I appeared to be one of the most open people you’ve encountered.
I lean guarded I think but something about you felt safe to show you my world— even just a glimpse. Vulnerability, although not easy, was easier with you.
It was the way you viewed the world and our tiny, chaotic roles in an unpredictable life. Our agreement that- No one knows what they’re doing. We’re all just trying to figure it out. The alignment of our commitment to evolvement over stagnancy.
It was our shared interest in art- and our dialogue of how it moved us, how it changed us, what drew us in.
Our discussions of humanity, of relational connection, and romantic relationships we maybe sacrificed too much of ourselves for but on the other side found healing through that. I guess, it’s both a blessing and curse to being a hopeless romantic.
It was the ease, the chemistry, and the emotional connection that made me stay.
Until I couldn’t.
Until it was clear my presence was no longer welcomed.
And maybe that’s my one regret.
That my response was controlled in my goodbye, layered between kind statements (that I genuinely meant).
And what I should have said- clarity is kindness and aside from the situation- how do you feel about me, and our connection romantically?
But I decided not to in the moment- scared I wouldn’t like the response likely.
I think the truth is, deep down, I knew you didn’t reciprocate the same feelings for me that I did for you.
That’s okay.
It’s no one’s fault and there’s no one to blame.
I guess I just would have appreciated that honesty.
I’ll never really know what our connection meant to you or if you romantically liked me, or if you felt we had the potential to build or progress.
Not once after months of hour long text conversations, and shared worldviews and dates did you ever actually say to me, “I like you.”
Because maybe you weren’t sure.
That’s fair- I deserved to know that too.
It feels confusing, unfinished, and sad to think we’ll never speak again.
Yet honestly— I’m used to lost connections so I’ll figure it out with my therapist next week.
I hope you’re doing okay and mostly that you’re happy. I hope you’re writing like you’ve wanted. I hope your family’s okay.
And I feel pathetic for missing a person that doesn’t think of me. And pathetic for writing my thoughts into a void with no read receipt from the one person that could give me answers.
But that’s how it goes and I can’t control it.
I won’t deplete my energy trying to understand any longer. I never liked confusion anyway.
All my best ✨

Hey.

I know I wasn’t a good friend.

I mean, we were good for each other for a while. But I know I was mostly in it for feeling like we were our own special club. Us two, the others in concentric rings around us. I’d never been the center of a circle.

I could talk about what I did wrong, but I think I’ve self-flagellated for you quite enough by now.

But you could have stopped punishing me. Pulling away is one thing. The way I was treated those last few months less so. It was like I wasn’t a person. No regard for my space or my welfare or meager acknowledgement of my humanity.

And no matter how hard you kicked my ribs I just rolled over like a good dog as my penance. I guess it was that passivity that made you take for granted that you would get away with any way you treated me? Well, you were right. You’ll never hear about it. I’m not coming back.

And then you hear through the grapevine about what’s going on with my family. The reason I moved home. And you have the unadulterated gall to extend me your pity? Your condolences? Suddenly my crisis is bigger than your vendetta?

And you told the others? Do you think three texts from three estranged friends in one day is comforting? Do you think there’s any world in which I don’t imagine you in a room together deliberating what to say? But oh, we should reconnect over coffee.

I’ve never heard a more fraudulent bid for connection in my life. And I never knew you could have a foul-weather friend. But here you are.

Fuck your pity. I hope some of the person I remember being friends with was real.

Goodbye.

Tell me why you feel so far away—
Far, far away, like you're deep in the galaxy?

My feelings for you are like a star, waiting to explode into orbit. 💫
But I am holding onto them; I am being patient

You are like the moon: silent, creeping through the dark. 🌖
I know you are watching me.
I know you want to reach out to me,
But your pride and ego stand in the way 🥀

The moon can never have a second chance,
And the sun can never go into the dark.
All that remains are these beautiful stars, waiting to glow brighter than before.

If only you would step up and tell me you feel the same way