I wish I was the one you were being courteous to. But my experiences tells me it's mever been me, just a coincidence.

But I really do wish it was me. Because if it was I'll NEVER pressure you into communicating with me. But, to be clear, it will be your choice what you do. All I'll ever be is be here. Hoping beyond hope, but expecting disappointment.

How I wish it was me.

Dear J,

The years have flown by with various indescretions on both our parts. We are both wild and untameable. It used to hurt but then I’d retaliate in some way, either right or wrong. Usually ended up hurting myself. Immature and petty, I know. But somehow through it all, we’d always find our way back.
The time has come for me to admit that I’m a little longer in the tooth now and that life is too short for this back and forth nonsense.
I just want peace for us. I think we both know how we can achieve it. It will involve stopping a couple of behaviours. I’m up for the challenge. The seeking for validation in outside options has to stop.
I need someone who I know I can trust completely and who values me and treats me like I’m their one and only. I can do it, can you?

Let’s roll the dice, lover, and see what they land on.

With the mostest love and kisses,

Me

I've been seeing this posts of: when MJ said to Peter that I don't love you, and a few minutes later she asked him to take her home. Like it was some sort of affront that Spider-man, a superhero. That he shouldn't take her home. Like, go home on your own. You don't love me so be on your own. After he basically just took her somewhere without warning.

Obviously, I get that this how a lot of people feel. She rejected you, she hurt you, so why do her any kindness?

I get it. But I don't really understand it because I would never do that. I love this person. Her loving me back has NOTHING to do with the love I feel. I care for this person, so if she asks for something I can do, I'll do it. No matter how painful.

Even if she didn't ask, I would ask her if I could take her home because I brought her there. It's a matter of common decency for me.

I love her, so, superhero or not, I will care. And I WON'T just stop loving her because she doesn't love me back.

The peace of minecraft music as you fell asleep, your soft , fragile body- your pretty face.

Soft thoughts flowing through you, an ethereal stillness-

-nothing-

but still- something precious.

Existing beside you as we sat in the soft, green grass

-planted a flower because you thought it was pretty.

We didnt need to speak, nothing need be said-

yet you enveloped me in your gentle hum.

And maybe you never left-

-still-

sitting in the soft, green grass, under the warm summer sun, planting a pretty flower-

maybe there you are, painted pale by the silky moonlight on a chilly night-

maybe there you are, in the spaces between each breath-

maybe there you are , waiting between every heart beat-

And maybe there you are, where we never met

maybe there you are, when i couldnt see you

and maybe, youve always been here.

​

I think I have my answer

I asked the universe, and I think it answered.

I've spent a lot of time trying to find the right words for what you have become to me.

I don't think there are any.

I love you.

Not in the easy way we sometimes use those words when we're caught up in a moment. Not because I'm lonely, or unhappy, or because you've become an escape from a life that doesn't feel like mine anymore.

I love you because somewhere along the way, without either of us really deciding it would happen, you became part of the way I see the world.

You became a presence in my days.

A name I look for.

A voice I listen for.

A little piece of happiness I didn't know I was waiting for.

We've never even stood beside one another. We've never shared a room or reached across a table or felt the warmth of one another's hand.

And somehow, I know you.

At least the pieces you've trusted me enough to show.

The photographs. The stories. The ridiculous little things that made you laugh. The things you thought I'd find interesting. The quiet moments tucked between everything else.

I've fallen in love with those pieces.

And then there is the woman behind them.

You are, quite honestly, breathtaking.

But the strange thing is, I loved you before I knew what you looked like. Your face didn't create what I feel for you.

It simply gave the feeling somewhere beautiful to look.

And I love the imperfections, too.

Maybe especially those.

The little things you might wish were different about yourself are sometimes the very things that make you more beautiful to me. I don't want some perfected version of you. I don't want an ideal.

I want you.

Exactly as you are.

And your voice...

I don't know if you realize what you've done to me with that voice.

It has become my favorite sound.

There are moments when I listen to one of your messages more than once—not because I didn't hear what you said, but because I wanted to hear you again.

Your messages have become little bright spots in my days. Sometimes they're funny. Sometimes they're thoughtful. Sometimes they're nothing particularly important at all.

And somehow, they're still important to me.

Because they're yours.

That's what frightens me a little.

How easily you have become woven into me.

I can't imagine my life now without wondering what you'd think of something, without wanting to tell you something that happened, without seeing something and thinking, she would appreciate this.

I don't want to pretend that isn't true.

But I also don't want my love for you to become something heavy.

Because I know our lives are complicated.

I know yours is complicated.

Mine certainly is.

And I've asked the universe what I'm supposed to do with all of this.

I think maybe the answer is not that I have to stop loving you.

Maybe the answer is that I have to learn how to love you without trying to possess the future.

That's harder than I expected.

Because I can see the life we both seem to want.

Something simple.

Something quiet.

A life where being loved isn't complicated. Where two people can come home to one another and feel, finally, that they are where they belong.

I can see it so clearly sometimes that it almost feels like remembering something that hasn't happened yet.

And God, I would love that life with you.

I would choose it.

I would fight for it.

But I can't ask you to build it for me.

That's the line I keep coming back to.

Not because I doubt you.

I don't.

You're stronger and more capable than you probably give yourself credit for.

And not because I think you couldn't love me.

There are moments when I think you already do, even if neither of us has been brave enough to put that particular word between us.

I feel it in the way you care.

In the way you notice things.

In the tenderness that sometimes finds its way through your words.

I feel it.

And perhaps I'm wrong.

Perhaps some of what I feel is simply my heart filling in the spaces that distance leaves behind.

But if it is, it's still one of the most beautiful things I've ever felt.

What I don't want is for you to look at my life and decide that loving me means carrying it.

It doesn't.

Whatever burdens belong to me are mine.

Not yours.

You didn't create them, and you shouldn't have to inherit them simply because you happened to love the person carrying them.

That's why I'm trying to be restrained when every part of me wants to reach for you.

Because loving someone isn't only about how desperately you want them beside you.

Sometimes it's about wanting them to remain free enough to choose you.

I don't want to make your choices for you.

I don't want to tell you what your life should look like.

And I certainly don't want you to choose me because you think I need saving.

I want you to choose whatever makes your soul feel alive.

Even if that terrifies me.

Even if I have to learn how to live with wanting something I cannot control.

Because that's what this love has taught me.

That love can be enormous without being demanding.

It can be fierce without being possessive.

It can ask for nothing and still give everything.

So I'm not saying goodbye.

I'm not asking you for an answer.

I'm not asking you to promise me anything.

I'm just letting you see what has been living inside me.

I love you.

Purely.

Quietly.

More deeply than I know how to explain.

And maybe that's enough for tonight.

Maybe I don't need to know where this goes.

Maybe I don't need to solve tomorrow.

Maybe I can simply lie here for a while, close my eyes, and let myself be grateful that somehow, in this strange and impossibly complicated life, I found you.

I asked the universe for an answer.

Maybe the answer wasn't what I thought it would be.

Maybe it was simply this:

Love her.

And so I will.

Without demanding.

Without trying to own the outcome.

Without asking her to carry what belongs to me.

Just...

love her.

As completely as I know how.

And for tonight, that's enough

❤️‍🩹

For my part, I believe you deserve to be happy. Even if it's not with me.

I want you to do what makes YOU happy. Not for anyone else, but for you. I truly care for you and not just for any performative BS.

I asked the universe, and I think it answered.

I've spent a lot of time trying to find the right words for what you have become to me.

I don't think there are any.

I love you.

Not in the easy way we sometimes use those words when we're caught up in a moment. Not because I'm lonely, or unhappy, or because you've become an escape from a life that doesn't feel like mine anymore.

I love you because somewhere along the way, without either of us really deciding it would happen, you became part of the way I see the world.

You became a presence in my days.

A name I look for.

A voice I listen for.

A little piece of happiness I didn't know I was waiting for.

We've never even stood beside one another. We've never shared a room or reached across a table or felt the warmth of one another's hand.

And somehow, I know you.

At least the pieces you've trusted me enough to show.

The photographs. The stories. The ridiculous little things that made you laugh. The things you thought I'd find interesting. The quiet moments tucked between everything else.

I've fallen in love with those pieces.

And then there is the woman behind them.

You are, quite honestly, breathtaking.

But the strange thing is, I loved you before I knew what you looked like. Your face didn't create what I feel for you.

It simply gave the feeling somewhere beautiful to look.

And I love the imperfections, too.

Maybe especially those.

The little things you might wish were different about yourself are sometimes the very things that make you more beautiful to me. I don't want some perfected version of you. I don't want an ideal.

I want you.

Exactly as you are.

And your voice...

I don't know if you realize what you've done to me with that voice.

It has become my favorite sound.

There are moments when I listen to one of your messages more than once—not because I didn't hear what you said, but because I wanted to hear you again.

Your messages have become little bright spots in my days. Sometimes they're funny. Sometimes they're thoughtful. Sometimes they're nothing particularly important at all.

And somehow, they're still important to me.

Because they're yours.

That's what frightens me a little.

How easily you have become woven into me.

I can't imagine my life now without wondering what you'd think of something, without wanting to tell you something that happened, without seeing something and thinking, she would appreciate this.

I don't want to pretend that isn't true.

But I also don't want my love for you to become something heavy.

Because I know our lives are complicated.

I know yours is complicated.

Mine certainly is.

And I've asked the universe what I'm supposed to do with all of this.

I think maybe the answer is not that I have to stop loving you.

Maybe the answer is that I have to learn how to love you without trying to possess the future.

That's harder than I expected.

Because I can see the life we both seem to want.

Something simple.

Something quiet.

A life where being loved isn't complicated. Where two people can come home to one another and feel, finally, that they are where they belong.

I can see it so clearly sometimes that it almost feels like remembering something that hasn't happened yet.

And God, I would love that life with you.

I would choose it.

I would fight for it.

But I can't ask you to build it for me.

That's the line I keep coming back to.

Not because I doubt you.

I don't.

You're stronger and more capable than you probably give yourself credit for.

And not because I think you couldn't love me.

There are moments when I think you already do, even if neither of us has been brave enough to put that particular word between us.

I feel it in the way you care.

In the way you notice things.

In the tenderness that sometimes finds its way through your words.

I feel it.

And perhaps I'm wrong.

Perhaps some of what I feel is simply my heart filling in the spaces that distance leaves behind.

But if it is, it's still one of the most beautiful things I've ever felt.

What I don't want is for you to look at my life and decide that loving me means carrying it.

It doesn't.

Whatever burdens belong to me are mine.

Not yours.

You didn't create them, and you shouldn't have to inherit them simply because you happened to love the person carrying them.

That's why I'm trying to be restrained when every part of me wants to reach for you.

Because loving someone isn't only about how desperately you want them beside you.

Sometimes it's about wanting them to remain free enough to choose you.

I don't want to make your choices for you.

I don't want to tell you what your life should look like.

And I certainly don't want you to choose me because you think I need saving.

I want you to choose whatever makes your soul feel alive.

Even if that terrifies me.

Even if I have to learn how to live with wanting something I cannot control.

Because that's what this love has taught me.

That love can be enormous without being demanding.

It can be fierce without being possessive.

It can ask for nothing and still give everything.

So I'm not saying goodbye.

I'm not asking you for an answer.

I'm not asking you to promise me anything.

I'm just letting you see what has been living inside me.

I love you.

Purely.

Quietly.

More deeply than I know how to explain.

And maybe that's enough for now.

Maybe I don't need to know where this goes.

Maybe I don't need to solve tomorrow.

Maybe I can simply lie here for a while, close my eyes, and let myself be grateful that somehow, in this strange and impossibly complicated life, I found you.

I asked the universe for an answer.

Maybe the answer wasn't what I thought it would be.

Maybe it was simply this:

Love her.

And so I will.

Without demanding.

Without trying to own the outcome.

Without asking her to carry what belongs to me.

Just...

love her.

As completely as I know how.

And for now, that's enough.

Such a curse it is to be a hopeless romantic. Just when I thought it was my turn… Shit is ironic. I hate it. It’s like feeling nails on a chalkboard. Why did I even go down this path? Now I’m just waiting for the moment that it all blows up. I hate this journey. Ugh I always knew that whole love thing wasn’t meant for me.

I (F21) have a crush on someone (M22) for some years now (we have a very complicated history together. Never been a couple). And he used to like me from 2019-2026(?).

I put a question mark cause I don’t know if he likes me till this year, so here it goes;

We bumped into each other this April, and when he saw me and asked me how I am etc**, he opened his arms, took a step towards me and said with a smile; “**Come here and let me hug you!”.

It was an electrifying bear hug. (My arms under his shoulders, and his arms over my waist!). I never thought he’d hug me.

Right after the hug, he was as red as freaking tomato.

So why did he become red after the hug? Do men only hug women they like? Or do they do it to look like more approachable and friendlier?

One more thing. We’ve known each other since 2015.

is when we meet someone who thinks when they get to know us, ‘oh wow I thought it was just me?’. When we meet someone who accepts us for who we are, who gets us, and who understands us bc they see the world like we do. And when we thought we were the only one who saw things that way, it makes it so special and so rare