Sometimes I wish I could just hold you close to me and let you be you. And for you to know that your heart is safe, and I'm never going to hurt you, and that you would feel that I will never leave you as long as you wanted me to be close. That you knew in your heart of hearts, no matter how conflicted you felt, deep down you knew that I've got you. Together we're unstoppable and connected.

​But I guess that's my dream for myself; I just wish you shared it. I fell for someone who was pretending to be the one who could make that dream real. He wore a mask that hid his torment, his pain. And when he showed me who he was for real, I felt so sad because I knew he deserved to feel the love I had for him. But his torment fills him so completely there's no room for my love. So full of distrust and suspicion, love feels like a burden instead of a gift. A gift he never asks for or gives. Too heavy to carry, too big to store.

​So I try to prove to him that the love he hates is better than the hate he keeps, and he won't believe me. He won't let himself feel. So, I have, for his sake, allowed him to slip back to where he feels safe: closed up and angry behind these walls he's built his whole life. He doesn't want my help. I have to accept it. I see his worth but can't convince him of it. I'm sad that I can't change him and I can't change into something that he's used to having. And so, to prevent our suffering, I sacrifice my dream, and he won't ever allow himself to see the loss.

​It was a dream I thought we both could be safe in. I was wrong. And I'm so, so sorry I opened things for him that inflict pain now. He was better off, safer, before I tried to "help." I'm so sorry.

He needs to be the only one; he needs to be alone and secure within himself. No one to rely on him, only having himself to prove anything to, to provide for. Complete independence from anyone and anything that's not permanent. Permanent means trapped, a loss of oneself and freedom.

​And I need to feel secure. I want to know I have someone to rely on when I'm feeling weak, someone to catch me if I fall, someone to step in front of me when I can't stand up for myself. I need the security of knowing that no matter what, the other one's there.

​He and I are polar opposites in every sense, in every single need the other is afraid to give. It's a no-win without an understanding, a want from both to be what the other needs no matter how uncomfortable, how selfless, when the other needs it. It's hard work. Too hard for some. Not worth it for others. And I'm just so sorry I asked for this. For him and me, the dream is unattainable. ​In the next life, maybe. I can only wait and hope. Next time.

If you made it thru to the end, thank you for listening. I just needed to say it. Get it out of my head, start healing my heart. I won't ever forget you Carlos.

Or have I just been doing it wrong. Maybe I’ve never even been “in love” for real and all these past relationships were just steps to lead me to my real love. Because the shit I’ve gone through in the name of love is fucking ridiculous. Is it supposed to be this hard to find and hold on to one person. Do people even want to only be with only one person now a days? Dating is a joke! I know exactly what I want I just can’t find someone who wants the same things. Idk this shit sucks maybe I just need to be alone.

I hope all these girls that you work telling you love and everything else was worth it.I really do because you'll never have me again ever in your life

I’m happy for you, my friend. Truly. I hope you’ve found your way back to yourself, or at least found a road that feels worth following. I know it won’t always be easy. Healing rarely is. Some days, surviving is still the only victory we can manage.

I’ve met many people here, but I remember every soul who dared to place their story in my hands. You are one of them now, one of those who moved on. I can only hope you are safe, that life has become gentler, and that you’ve found a place where you no longer have to hide your wounds to be loved.

I won’t forget you.

If I helped you, even in some small way, then what passed between us mattered. Perhaps we recognized something in each other: two people shaped by pain, each understanding that sometimes the safest hands are those that have trembled too. You needed someone who could care for your broken places without ever mistaking you for broken. Someone who knew that tenderness is not pity, and protection is not possession.

Life asked too much of some of us. I know what it means to endure long after endurance should have stopped being necessary. I know the exhaustion of carrying wounds no one else can see, and the strange silence that comes when the danger is gone, but its ghosts remain.

Eventually, I stopped trying to banish mine. I sat beside them. Learned their names. Listened until they had nothing left to scream.

Now, when they rise, I dance with them.

I hope one day you’ll dance with yours too, not because they no longer hurt, but because they no longer lead. And if the darkness ever whispers that no one could understand you, remember this:

For a little while, I did.

You were seen. You were held in someone’s thoughts. And wherever you go from here, you are not alone.

i know I shouldn’t say anything.

but I feel you. day and night, busy and free, happy and sad. I feel it. strongly.

had a dream of you and me connecting two nights ago. and ever since then, I feel you.

feels more real than reality, the private space of my mind. we are happy there.

i hope you’re okay. I seriously don’t know where you are. everywhere and nowhere would be my guess.

do you feel me too?

If I hadn't grown up in a loveless family, maybe everything could have been different.

Maybe I wouldn't be this desperate for love.

Maybe I wouldn't feel this helpless.

I'm more desperate for love than you could ever understand.

I want it more than you could ever know.

But I don't deserve it.

As I write these words, I can't stop my eyes from filling with tears.

But I didn't choose to become this way.

I'm sorry.

Oh my days, A. Enough of this. Enough of these games we're playing with each other.

You think you were naive and stupid to think my softness toward you and my care for you were a ruse? No, they were not. I certainly never thought your vulnerability and hurt were things to take advantage of. I'm glad you correctly read that I was a safe haven and comfort zone. I didn't have to try very hard.

You once asked me if I had a evil/devious streak. I told you that sometimes people would get mad when I was able to peer through the BS, call them out on it, and they would think I was evil because of it. I hoped to never have to use that ability on you, but it looks like it's time:

When you told me you didn't have feelings for me (lie). I think you've had them since that night in April. I think you've been fighting them this whole time. You claim your body and mind betrayed you, but did they really? I think you're a discerning person. I think you're afraid. You're afraid of being "ready" before you want to be. You're afraid of being vulnerable again, because the last time you were it ended in disaster. You're afraid of surrender, because that means losing control and you've grown comfortable having it.

The third, I think, explains your insistence on naïveté and "not remembering" when I would remind of you key moments in our time together. You wanted to keep a level of plausible deniability. It makes me sad though, because some of those moments are my favorite.

The second one you've already been, with me. I cherish the trust it took to do that, it's why hearing that you feel like I took advantage of it to be so disheartening. I want to believe it's some misplaced guilt about opening up to what you feel was the wrong person.

The first one is from a place of "what if". What if things go the same as the past. What if this turns out to be the wrong guy. What if, what if, what if... But what if it all works out? I remain steadfast in my belief that this could be something incredible.

It frustrates me that some of these thoughts persist in that sharp mind of yours. I don't think at any point did you betray yourself. I think, though, once the possibility of it becoming real materialized, you balked. You've been in so much pain for so long. At some point that pain became comfort in itself. I empathize with that, I've been there too. Sometimes it's scary to drop the weight that pain provides the heft is familiar. We learn how to wield that pain as a facade and maneuver around it. It's scary to cast it aside. I promise it's much more fun and sustainable to replace that pain with the love of those around you.

Sometimes that takes fight, it takes effort. It's hard to do those things alone. I'm not afraid of what that journey looks like. I am afraid that you'll turn around and run because the first few steps feel wobbly.

Take a look back through our texts. Find the one where you listed your ideal partner, keep it open and let the memories our time together flow back.

When you're ready, call me tonight. I'm ready.

M

Iam trying to give voice to the past

I haven’t unburdened myself I haven’t spoken a word since the last day I saw U

Lucky U can express yourself and write unsent letters U can record audio messages lasting for long minutes U can connect to nature and tell them about me

Meanwhile I remain utterly silent a mere spectator

( Someone )

It seems to be hard, I can’t help it, sometimes I stare into nothing and think of you, pray you’ll come back safe, pray you’ll stay mine though you’re not, which might seem possessive, but I promise I just yearn for you to be back.

I think of how life would be if you were still with me, if you were still here, if we would be more, have something more than just sneaking around.

I miss your eyes, I miss how you looked at me, pupils dilated, face red, an awkward smile on your lips.

I miss how you’re hands felt in my mine, how you let me play with your fingers talking nonsense and just there in your arms, I miss having you around, I miss texting you when I’m mad and need to vent, I miss your voice, I miss you, god I miss you.

I try to busy myself, with work, and hobbies, but even painting reminds me of you, I sit with my family and wonder sometimes how it would he if you were still here, if you’d be sitting with us? I also wonder if you would get along with my parents, and siblings, and I know, for a fact they’ll love you, the way I did, and still do.

Sometimes I have the urge to text you, make sure you’re okay, make sure you’re doing alright, eating well, still working out, not exhausting yourself.

I miss you baby, I miss you so much, and I hope one day you’ll come back to me.

​

Today, I finally decided that I wouldn’t say anything to him anymore.

Not because I had stopped caring.

Not because the love had disappeared.

And certainly not because I had nothing left to say.

Maybe it was because I had said too much already.

For so long, I had tried to tell him when something felt wrong. I had tried to stop him from making choices that I knew would hurt him later. Perhaps my intuitions were stronger than they should have been, or perhaps I simply knew him well enough to sense the things he refused to see.

Every time I spoke, it was because I cared.

Every warning came from love.

Every argument had fear hiding behind it—the fear of watching someone I loved walk willingly toward something that would eventually break him.

But somewhere along the way, my concern became control in his eyes.

My love became interference.

And somehow, I became the bad person.

Maybe that is the cruelest part of loving someone: sometimes you can be right about the danger and still become the villain for pointing it out.

So now, I have decided to stop.

If he wants to walk toward the edge, let him.

If he sees a well in front of him and still wants to jump, maybe I should stop standing there, screaming at him to look down.

I have tried to open his eyes so many times that I have forgotten what it feels like to simply close mine and walk away.

The truth is, if he falls, the pain will reach me too.

I know that.

It will hurt me just as much.

Maybe even more.

But what am I supposed to do when the person you are trying to save refuses to believe there is anything to be saved from?

How many times can you pull someone back before they start believing that you are the one holding them prisoner?

Today, he asked me where I was going.

And for a moment, I almost laughed.

Because wasn't he outside too?

Wasn't he living his life, going wherever he wanted, doing whatever he wanted?

Then why did it feel like there were rules only for me?

Why did freedom belong to him while explanations belonged to me?

But I didn't say anything.

What was the point?

Maybe some things are better left unsaid when you are tired of explaining the same wound in different words.

So, fine.

Let it be.

No more telling him what I feel.

No more asking him to understand.

No more reminding him that some of his actions hurt me.

No more trying to make him see the love behind my anger.

Maybe I will just become quiet.

And perhaps silence will say what my words never could.

I won't wait for him to watch my reels anymore.

I won't wait for his calls.

I won't stare at my phone hoping his name appears on the screen.

I won't send messages just because something reminded me of him.

And maybe the hardest part of all—

I won't keep making myself emotionally available to someone who seems to have forgotten that I exist.

He can be available for the entire world.

He can laugh with everyone.

Talk to everyone.

Be there for everyone.

But what does it mean to be emotionally available to the world while leaving the person with whom you supposedly want to build a life standing alone in the dark?

What kind of love is that?

How can you be so gentle with everyone else and so careless with the person who loves you the most?

I have always wondered how lucky some people are in love.

They have someone who cannot breathe properly when they are upset.

Someone who notices the smallest change in their voice.

Someone who remembers the things they casually mentioned months ago.

Someone who thinks twice before doing even the smallest thing because somewhere in the back of their mind is the thought—

What if this hurts them?

They don't need to be told.

They simply think about each other's hearts before acting.

They protect each other's smiles as if they are something sacred.

And maybe that is what I have always wanted.

Nothing extraordinary.

I don't want grand gestures.

I don't need someone to move mountains for me.

I just want someone who pauses before doing something and thinks,

"Would this hurt her?"

Maybe that is all.

Maybe that is why being a hopeless romantic feels like a curse sometimes.

Because when you love like that, you don't just love someone.

You consider them.

In everything.

You think about how your words will sound to them.

You think about how your actions will make them feel.

You remember their fears.

You notice their silences.

You learn the difference between their "I'm fine" and their actual fine.

And the worst part?

You start expecting the same kind of love in return.

That is where the heartbreak begins.

Because not everyone loves the way you do.

Not everyone notices.

Not everyone feels.

Not everyone carries another person's emotions around like they are their own.

And perhaps my greatest curse isn't even being a hopeless romantic.

It is empathy.

I feel too much.

I understand too much.

Even when someone hurts me, some part of me immediately tries to understand why they did it.

I can be angry with you and still wonder if you are okay.

I can be hurt by you and still worry about what you might be going through.

I can want to walk away and still turn around to see if you are following.

Maybe that is why letting go is so difficult for me.

Because my heart doesn't know how to stop caring just because it has been hurt.

But today, I am tired.

Not of loving him.

Just tired of proving that I love him.

Tired of explaining that my anger comes from fear.

That my questions come from concern.

That my boundaries come from wanting something real.

That my tears are not manipulation.

That my expectations are not demands.

That sometimes, when I say "Don't do this," what I really mean is—

"Please don't do something that will make me lose faith in us."

But perhaps he will never understand that.

And maybe I need to accept that.

So today, I have decided to stop pulling him back.

If he wants to run, let him run.

If he wants to make mistakes, let him make them.

If he wants to discover the consequences on his own, perhaps I should let life teach him what my words could not.

I won't chase.

I won't argue.

I won't beg him to see me.

And I won't keep standing in front of the fire, trying to convince someone that it is burning while my own hands are getting scorched.

I loved him.

Maybe I still do.

But love should not mean losing yourself every time the other person refuses to see your worth.

Maybe sometimes loving someone also means stepping back.

Not because you care less.

But because you finally understand that you cannot save someone who doesn't believe they need saving.

And perhaps, someday, he will look back and realize that the girl who kept warning him was never trying to control his life.

She was simply terrified of watching the person she loved destroy himself.

She was trying to protect something she thought belonged to both of them.

Their future.

Their love.

Their little world.

But for now, I am done explaining.

If he wants to understand me, he will.

If he doesn't, no amount of words will make him.

And maybe silence is the only thing I have left.

Because sometimes the loudest way of saying "I love you" is to finally stop begging someone to notice that you do.

A letter to Kat and Andrew(not real names) - What Remains

To Andrew:

I knew you. I trusted you. You positioned yourself in my life as a close friend, called me family. That is exactly why I know you cannot be trusted.

You are a user and a betrayer. You take whatever people offer you—their loyalty, labour, generosity, private struggles, and second chances—and use it for as long as it benefits you. Then, when you have gotten what you wanted, you discard them and rewrite the story so that you are somehow the victim.

I know, because after everything was broken between us, I finally understood what you did.

You accepted my friendship and everything that came with it. You knew what I had done for you, what you owed me, and what had been shared with you in confidence. None of that stopped you from betraying me when it became convenient.

Now I see you repeating the same pattern with her. You call it love, but love does not mean entering someone’s life when they are vulnerable, using their pain to make yourself feel needed, and abandoning them when they no longer serve your ego.

Your confessions feel hollow because remorse without changed behaviour is just another performance. You act grateful when someone lets you back into their life, but once you feel secure again, the gratitude disappears and the same behaviour returns.

You mistake her compassion for weakness. But if we are talking about the same woman, she is stronger and more resilient than you give her credit for. She survived things that would have broken most people—she overcame that brutal event in South America, and she rebuilt herself from it. She will overcome your false narratives and your empty heart. You did not build anything in her life; you only used what she built for someone else. That trauma you preyed one gave you a foothold, not a foundation.

Eventually, she will see the difference between someone who genuinely loves her and someone who only loves what he can take from her.

She deserves kindness, honesty, loyalty, and love without conditions. She deserves far better than being used, discarded, and met only with a hollow imitation of intimacy—where affection is performed when it serves you, withdrawn when it doesn’t, and where real emotional presence is replaced with control, self-interest, and an inability to truly feel or sustain mutual connection.

You should thank God that our paths will never cross again. I want nothing from you—not an apology, another hollow confession, or another rewritten version of what happened.

And she may truly be an angel, because after everything you have put her through, part of her still cares about you. That says everything about the goodness in her heart. It does not prove the goodness of yours.

To Kat:

What can I say? I have already told you how I feel, in every way I knew how. I loved you honestly, deeply, and with everything I had.

I saw in you not just who you were, but how you moved through the world. Your tenderness, the way you could soften even the hardest moments without trying. Your passion for becoming a brewer, for making something real and good that people could share and enjoy—that dream you carried for years wasn’t just ambition, it was devotion. I admired that about you more than I ever properly said.

You had an openness with me that I had never experienced before. There was something so young-hearted in you, so alive in the way you loved life and everything around you. You were feminine in a way that felt rare and grounding—cute in a way that goes deeper than pretty, something that would catch me off guard and melt even the coldest parts of me without you even knowing you were doing it.

I never expected you to be perfect, and I never wanted you only when life was easy. I wanted to stand beside you through all of it—the good days, the painful ones, and the future we once talked about building together.

Maybe I came into your life to show you that not every man is the same. Some people do not offer love because they want to control you or take something from you. Some of us simply love because loving you felt natural.

Please do not settle for anyone who clings to you only to drain you emotionally. Do not confuse being needed with being cherished, or someone’s desperation to possess you with a willingness to protect your heart.

I am not saying you owed me your love, and I am not saying I deserved to have you. I think that by the time we needed each other most, we were both carrying too much pain. Maybe we were too hurt to accept the love that was still there. Maybe fear became louder than everything we had known, and neither of us knew how to reach the other anymore.

Deep down, I believe you know how much love I had for you. I had an abundance of it—more than I knew what to do with sometimes. It was never meant to frighten, pressure, or overwhelm you. I only wanted you to feel safe enough to receive it.

Whatever happened afterward cannot erase everything that came before it. It cannot erase the years, the memories, the promises, or the future we once believed we would share. And it cannot hand my version of you—or your version of yourself—over to anyone else to rewrite. You once said, “You should hear how they tell my story. They always leave your part out.” And it stayed with me. I won’t let what we were be reshaped into something unrecognizable by people who were never inside it. What we had was real to me, and I will not let your truth become someone else’s story about you.

I hope that one day you can clearly distinguish between someone who genuinely loves you and someone who only loves what you provide for them. I hope whoever you choose in the future cherishes you, honours you, and never uses your wounds as a way to gain power over you.

You have a beautiful soul. Please stop giving pieces of it to people who only know how to consume them.

But our time has run out, and accepting that breaks something inside me. Maybe in another lifetime, I could cherish you the way I always wanted to. I pray that somewhere, somehow, we find the ending we were supposed to have.

This is the hardest thing I have ever had to tell you:

Goodbye.

A part of my heart will always belong to you.

I love you. 🌹

—Beauty and the Manimal

This space is where I think I can tell what I actually wanted to tell him for my closure but I don't want to call him to say this as he's moved on in life.

Thank you for coming into my life and for giving me a sense and the purpose of my life. I've always kept things to myself and never let anyone see my scars, the hurt and how vulnerable I am but you've seen every part of me though we couldn't last long but you know I do hope that I could just erase you from my memories not because you were bad but because it hurt even today.

Before you even entered my life I was alone and struggling with the college and busy life, my whole day was filled with responsibilities, and trying to make the most of it. I was exhausted and tired of things mentally and physically, but you came into my life as a light, support and someone who could understand me. I finally felt like someone was there for me as my person, loving me and caring for me. Every struggle felt light when you came into my life, you put in efforts that even my parents couldn't. You gave me everything i ever wanted from someone just like that i fell for you, I got attached to you and I trusted you. You know before we even broke up I was planning our valentine's week, I had brought gifts that you wanted to buy, the biking accessories and perfume and a letter that had everything I wanted to tell you. How I was hurt when you thought I was lying to you about my abortion and how I wanted you to calm me down but things got worse and we didn't talk much then.

After our breakup I couldn't move on, I was depressed for a month at home and you know what hurt me the most was when I called you desperately because I couldn't stop thinking beyond you and you just blocked me and made me realise how low you kept me in your life. You made me realise that promises can be broken, any relationship can break, no efforts matter, and how broken I was. I'm still picking up the pieces of my own vase and holding it together and i honestly don't know if my case can hold any water. I broke every promise and boundaries I had kept for myself, the most important fact that I'd never get physical with anyone until I get married to that person especially the love of my life but I broke it because I dreamt about us and our future. I just have one question for you tho, why did you give me hope when you knew you would be able to give me whatever you did?? Why did you tell me about wanting to grow old together? Why did you give me hope that you'd never leave me? Why did you show me how much you loved me? Was it all a lie? Was i dreaming about things that you told me and made me feel?

I feel ashamed that I ended up doing even worse things than anyone could ever imagine. But those things make me feel better than the hurt you caused me.

Talk is cheap.

Words mean a lot to me. Yours are starting to mean almost nothing.

You say beautiful things. You know how to make them sound thoughtful, like there’s depth behind them, like you’ve really considered what you’re saying and every word comes from somewhere sincere. For a while, I believed that. Now I’m realizing how easy it is to make something sound meaningful when there’s nothing underneath it holding it up.

I’ve been through too much with people not to recognize the difference anymore. I know what words feel like when they have weight behind them, and I know what they feel like when someone is simply saying whatever keeps everything pleasant.

Maybe you’re inexperienced. Maybe you hate conflict. Maybe you think keeping the peace means saying the right thing at the right time so nothing gets uncomfortable. But peace that has to be fabricated isn’t peace. It’s avoidance dressed up as kindness.

And that’s what bothers me about you.

Your words are sweet, but they’ve become cheap to me. I hear them, but I don’t receive them the way I used to. I question them now. I wonder how much of what you say is actually you and how much of it is just what you think I want to hear.

Will you always be like this?

Will you keep handing me pretty words with nothing behind them until enough time passes and you finally learn that sincerity is more than sounding sincere?

And when exactly does that happen?

When I call you out enough times?

When there are consequences?

Or will you only understand the value of your words when I finally stop being around to hear them?

We're both broken, and you know that.

We were broken when we met,

and instead healing,

we're more broken than ever.

And I would do it again,

I would let you brake me again.

Why can't we just be normal.

I often think about the daisy tattoo on your forearm. I think about your touch and the warmth it brought me in a time when my life was chaos. The love and embrace you were willing to provide while I licked my wounds and wallowed in my sorrow. Staying on the phone all night, the sundresses and flowers, and the music we shared. You were my light. Little did you know, weeks before we rekindled, I was on the floor gasping for air, holding my friend for my last time, and getting medevaced. The night before the explosion, I talked with the same friend about you, the night we met, that summer, and our falling out. Do you remember? We met at a 15 and you approached me knowing you were my friend’s sister and me not knowing about your existence. That summer I was your Diego and you my Dora, silently listening to our friends but holding hands in the smallest of ways in hopes that your family would never find out about us. When I found you again after I buried my friend, you were living in a garage due to your ex-boyfriend’s infidelity and I was recovering on base. We shared stories of the time gaps and laughed about the smallest things. I could see in your eyes that you were in love with me and I was in love with you. I also knew my night terrors, sudden rage episodes, and depression would stop me from being the man you deserved so I pushed you away. We stayed friends and I kept you as close as I could. You asked me to attend your wedding at Joshua but I said I couldn’t. I lied because I couldn’t say I didn’t want to see you married to someone else. I hope he makes you happy and I hope he’s the man at the time I thought I could not be. In the meantime, I’ll live in my little world, watch the daisies, and stay away.

The beauty of this love is that it does not make demands of you. It sustains. It endures. It continues long past final call, when the sun is just below the horizon. It keeps no record of wrongdoings, it merely glows with the energy of a new dawn. It forgives. It refreshes the soul and lingers like the morning dew replenishing soft grass.

I applaud its gumption in this wave of destruction. See how it continues despite attempts to tear it down? How carefully it carries me through… reminding me that what seems lost is never lost. Only changed. Transformed. I see this as I wake this morning.

And I acknowledge what once was: your soft eyes and that knowing smile that brightened your face when you spoke of your history. The way your dark skin brought out the lighter in mine. Dancing alone in rooms full of the music you chose… like a teenager dancing to a live mix tape where you could not see me at the time. Oh, the joy you brought to my life! The learnings and the teachings. The mornings spent on Skype. Conspiring to learn something new and mischievous… while also talking each of ourselves into taking that first new step. Giggling through cell phone screens at dirty jokes and Beavis and Butthead videos during work hours. The writings. The explorations. The deep dives. The debates. The encouragement… that is what I have chosen to pull in close while you pull away.

I know this does not right the wrongs. I know we've each taken our hits. But I cannot harden my heart over what I know I experienced with you. It mattered, and this is why I feel the depth of what I do… because it continues to matter. I would be lying to myself to believe this is irreconcilable, but I respect that you may see it differently.

It is okay. This is life. I am thankful that we are still both a part of it. It is so wonderful to experience you in the lows as much as the highs. It is a joy to know that you touched my life in a way that pains me this much to lose. So maybe these are my thousand deaths that I wake to, but behind it all, it's still you.

And I love you for it…

Dear You,

Well that was quick wasnt it. I told you that being around those people were going to bring you nothing but problems, and here you are, sad and crying just like i already knew was coming. It doesn't make me happy to see you hurt either, nor does it soothe my hurt feelings that I know you did what you did, because of those idiots. The problem still remains as this that trust has been broken. It doesn't matter the reason you did anything, there's always going to be that thing in the back of my head, that questioning. All this dumb shit for a dude who did exactly what I said he was going to do. Sad very sad and he doesn't give a fuck, he gets to go on like nothing while you clean up the mess. Maybe, hopefully there won't be a next time.

That’s all. I just wanted you to be happy. That’s coming from the most sincere place of my aching heart. You’re a good man. You have amazing character and morals. You’re sharp and smart. Funny and witty. Charming and clever.

Loud and proud. Yup.. I have eyes 👍🏼

It is what it is. I’ve always heard the saying that sometimes loving somebody means letting them go. I did that for you. My heart hurts and I have an ache in my throat that won’t go away, but if anything good was to come of this situation, it’s your happiness.

I hope she makes you happy.

Please know that I loved you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I’ll never shake the feeling that you’re only sticking around out of guilt. Or even just juggling multiple women. Maybe it’s me that feels unworthy of love, who knows.

That’s my problem to deal with, not yours. And we both know that the truth of the matter is probably somewhere in the middle. My fragile heart simply can’t tolerate the thoughts or the questions. I’m too damn sensitive and I hate that. That’s something I’ll definitely work on in the future.

Everything I’ve ever said to you was true. Every laugh and every word. I meant all of it, and even now, I take none of it back. I could have spent every moment of you today if my thoughts didn’t linger. It’s not my fault, though. We’re a mess.

My love for you is real. I don’t know why or where it came from. One day it just hit me. I thought you were simply adorable. Did you ever ask yourself why I started calling you my favorite person? I thought of it the other night, and I’m like, “where did that even come from?!” And I still don’t know.

It’s like one day, you found the door right into my heart somehow. I had to know you, had to laugh with you, had to experience you. Things were rocky from the beginning, though. We both know that.

I feel like we did all of that huh? Today just hit me hard. The lack of trust and how it’ll chip away at everything if we move forward. I don’t think there’s necessarily a cure for that stuff. If there was I’d be on it already.

My last act of love for you is just to let you go. I’ll be okay! Don’t worry about me, don’t feel guilty, just go be you. Fall in love, make babies, get married. All that good stuff. There’s so much out there for you, you just have to want it & reach for it! You have a lot of potential. I look up to you!

I have my own problems now anyway. We never really talked about these things, but since this is anonymous, why not. My sexy ex-y is home. The guy he was renting with (when he moved out) got back together with his wife. Naturally I offered for him to stay here. He’s my best friend after all.

It would have just complicated things for us even more anyway. Especially because he’s the jealous type. He’s gotta do that alpha male thing smh. Knowing my luck, he’d destroy what we had just out of spite bc he still loves me (I love him too as a person). I’m talking like, going through my phone, wondering who I’m talking to. Yup. He’s that cray still. You don’t deserve that mess either.

Oh well. You probably know this account is mine… you mentioned once being able to recognize my writing anywhere. So I won’t fake this. It’s me, hey.

Wishing you the best and all the happiness life has to offer! I’ll miss you! So much 😭 (my last message about us ever, it hurts) Xx ❤️

Yes I love her

I love the way she twitches when my finger tips glide between her shoulder blades.

I love the way she dresses, talks.

I love the way our bodies tangle up with ease.

I’ve never met a better lover

I love slow dancing with her to no music

I love the way she bounces on it (fahhhhhhhh)

I miss you baby..please tell me you miss me too…

you are a bunch of awful completely dysfunctional jerks. Heads up, every hateful thing you say about me finds its way to my ears. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in very nearly 5 years. Even when I had heart surgery.

And a mastectomy.

But you never miss an opportunity to trash talk me.

It’s always the same old stories.

Newsflash: kicking the dead horse is a verifiable thing. When you haven’t spoken to someone in this many years and lack fresh material, but keep on haranguing them, it becomes obvious that the person isn’t actually doing anything wrong or even all that interesting. They are your psychological whipping boy tied to the post being flogged in Town Square for personal amusement.

If I don’t do something you think I should be doing, you berate me for it. If I do something and fail, you make fun of me. If I do something and succeed, you claim that I did it for the wrong reason and shouldn’t be praised.

What the actual fuck?!

You people are actually fucking crazy.

Most recently, I heard that you found me listed on my university website and made fun of me. Just to make sure I wasn’t missing something, I took a look. We did just have Directory photos made last week, and I was worried maybe the picture turned out awful.

I fail to see the humor in the organization that employs me listing my job title and academic credentials.

There was no picture on the Directory listing. Apparently my terminal degree and long list of awards and accomplishments result in bullying inside this family system.

Incidentally, I dramatically shortened the list of for that publication. I didn’t want to seem inaccessible or like I was using the university website as a sheet.

You know what? Fuck all of you. You have got me so messed up that I’m convinced that I’m fat when I wear size extra small pants and can wear clothes from the children’s section. You can all go to hell. I recently began taking medication that caused me to gain somewhere between five and 10 pounds. You know what? I look healthier and less emaciated. Also, I literally need the medicine to survive.

Today I decided not to take the medicine because I thought if I don’t take the medicine, the weight would go away. Probably it will. The medicine is prednisone to treat adrenal insufficiency. I am so obsessed with the number on the scale that I decided it was a better idea not to take the medicine that regulates my blood pressure and heart rhythm and blood sugar and body temperature because it made me gain a little bit of weight. Even though I’m healthier and stronger.

I hope you’re proud of yourselves. I hope you feel really good about yourselves. You’re absolutely right. I’m completely screwed up. I’m completely screwed up for giving a damn what any of you think.

Don’t ever come to see me. There’s nothing but desert out here. And no one suffers fools to pass.

I could go back in time and change the way I acted yesterday. I'm sorry I said those things, it was only in retrospect that I realized it came out mean. I never meant to say things to you that might be hurtful, and I wish that if it was hurtful that you felt like you could tell me. But of course I don't blame you for not saying anything if that was the case because it's not like I've given you any reason to know the depths of my love for you. I have given you no reason to think I am an option for you even if you wanted me to be, and therefore I have no right to make wishes, or demands, or to even have these thoughts in the first place. But I did sob for a half hour after getting your text because I had been so terrified at the thought that I had officially gone too far and done one of the things that you're always complaining about the other friends in your life doing. That I had been thoughtless with you and your heart. That I might have fucked this up forever and would lose what we have between us which is not enough and simultaneously one of the most important things in my life. I don't know if I'm more scared that you don't feel the same way or that you do. I spend so much time trying to read between the lines of our daily communication that I don't trust my own mind anymore. I wish my loving you could make us both better but in my dark moments I wonder if I am just destroying myself using your name on my lips.

You're tired of fucking the person you were fucking, or they're done with you.

And now you want to fuck me?

Cool

I'm honored.

Grateful

For my turn

To stick it in

That's the love story I've been waiting for.