đŤ
there's no standard treatment for a broken heart. i sigh quietly to myself, thinking iâll actually find an answer on how to heal a broken heart on google
it all began five years ago, when i finally started spending time with himâthe boy who seemed to shine a little brighter than the rest. he was the kindest, the prettiest, the one who made my heart feel lighter just by existing. and he wanted to be my friend. how could i not fall?
kept the friendship up for a couple of years and my crush for him grew even stronger. sometimes he would come up in my dreams and then i would try to summon fate itselfâmanifesting, wishing, aching for him to love me back. because, as every girl knows, there is always a phase where we believe the universe listens. and so, i rinsed and repeated, hoping one day, he would look at me the way I looked at him
when we messaged or meet up, he felt like my twin flame. a connection so deep, so natural, that i convinced myself he must feel it too. he understood me, and i understood him
but i never felt that he liked me as much as i liked him.
and then, it endedânot with a dramatic farewell, not with a grand confession, but with silence. I ruined it in my own quiet way: fading out, withdrawing, blocking him, letting the messages go unanswered. I stopped reaching out, and so did he. it was as if we had been a story left unfinished, pages ripped from the book before the final chapter could be written
it has been four months since we last spoke. and now, he has a girlfriend. may I addâthroughout our years of friendship, he never had one. situationships, yes, but never something real. yet, here she is. not me.
the day I found out, it struck me in a way I hadnât expected. I had let him slip from my thoughts, let weeks pass without missing himâuntil I saw what I had once longed for, in the hands of someone else. I hadnât realized I was still holding onto the dream until it shattered before me.
now, my mind drifts to what could have been. I picture myself in her place, feel the ghost of a life that was never mine. would he have loved me, if I had held on? if I had tried? was I ever good enough for him? wasnât I pretty enough for himâŚ? why⌠her⌠not⌠meâŚ?
time is meant to heal. i know this. but this wound runs deep. losing someone you once felt connected to in the deepest corners of your soul is a quiet kind of grief, the kind that doesnât announce itself loudly but lingers in the spaces between thoughts. my heart feels heavy, my soul even heavier
but today, i miss him more than usually. iâve fallen to deep, so now every time i think of him, i will miss him deeply.
Feb 28, 2025
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oh honey I can relate and I hope you donât have to carry this weight forever â¤ď¸âđŠš
taterhole i â¤ď¸ you and thank you!! iâll work on it somehow, so one day i can thrive again and soar high to the skyyy
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i have come to the realization that maybe this was never about love at all. maybe it was never about being too shy to ask first. maybe it was never about late night phone calls and maybe just maybe being something beyond a little trinket you find and put in your pocket on your walk.
maybe i was the problem. or maybe im just sixteen. and maybe ill never know which of those are true or if itâs some golden ratio of both- does it matter at all?
for a minute there, i had some hope. just please dont look at them that way. please dont hate me forever. please dont make me watch while you continue on like nothing ever happened, without so much as a goodbye on your way out.
you really couldnt even bother to close the door?
Jan 24, 2025
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i didn't think they were when we first met. i mean, why would i? they were suave, confident, hot. filled to the brim with sticky hubris and emotion. but everyone has a vice, and the best of people keep theirs well hidden. so i find myself here, the place where all good characters begin-- in love. i definitely wasn't expecting it, but that's another story entirely.
i think insecurity is a cautious devil. like the fairy stories i was raised on, it's cunning, a trickster. it masquerades as many things- pride, confidence, and anger being the most prevalent flavors. my lover is none of these things, save maybe a bravado that only comes from finally having the courage to live truly as oneself after years of running. this bravado is enticing, but not necesarily a symptom. perhaps the greater fault is that i am entirely consumed by their personhood. i, like a crocodile on a winters day, bask in the sunlight of their soul. if my limbs were iron i would carve wheels from pure stone and a wagon of aged wood and use it to drag myself to their feet. yet, love is farsighted, and time has revealed the true deliciousness of their personhood rests on the facet that they too, are human.
so, we make our bed in the meadows and we fight our battles in the night. i speak more than i listen, they keep feelings like secrets. they shrivel and burrow to avoid, whereas i become louder to confront. our love is indeed an unlikely story. but i like it, and i want to make it. so, i find myself getting quieter, conceeding more. i let them win and ask them to decide. they do, and we fight sometimes. they would rather be disappointed than rejected. god, don't we all.
i speak in riddles and they in fact. maybe we are too different but we don't let it deter us, for we are far more the same than we could ever realize. still, when i speak plainly they assume puzzles, when i gently correct they quiver, when i say too much they internalize, communication rought by years of passive agressive parents and partners before me. i, who have known none of this, continue my ramblings, wanting only to share more of myself with my lover. i say the wrong thing. there is no wrong. i say things. they hurt.
i don't often mean it the way they take it. their interpretation is a faulty compass that rarely points to true north. sometimes the sheer polarity of their interpretation shocks me. i say i'm tired, they ask if i want them to leave. my direct mind cannot wrap around their curved one. if i wanted them to leave i would have asked. and i would never want such a thing. i say i am scared to become dull. they apologize for ruining me. i ask them what they want, they cannot give an anwer. insecurity is not a trait, it is a tyrant. i see them beneath the ruling scepter but i cannot budge them out from under it.
so i try to be gentle. i speak softly. i conceed. i give them exactly what they ask for. i have been trained on what to avoid. i wonder if this training is making me trickier, or more like the partners and parents that made them this way in the first place. i am no saint, i wish i could learn to shut my desperate eager mouth, a chore i have resisted and fought since childhood with the will and stubborness that remains unchanged. still i ache. the constant intent on misunderstanding me ages my soul. i feel the ache begging them from within my loving eyes. "see me as i am, lover," it cries, "please hear me as i am."
Jan 13, 2025
Are they the tingling feelings that you look back at or the fragments of memories that you struggle to picture in your head? Do you ever miss a person that you donât even know? Perhaps it is an idea, a concept or a thought.
You are trying to create the perfect person that will understand you, tame you and love you just like how you would. You do not seek for reciprocated love - you always feel like you want to give more and love more. It is your way of loving and who is to complain?
However, a part of you aches knowing that someday when the time comes and you lay down onto a field taking your final breaths, you probably would have wanted someone to just whisper on how much they adore you, just like how ânight breezes seem to whisper âI love you.ââ.
Gentleness but also full with affection.
Somebody who can withstand you during your energetic moments and your burnt out times. Someone who will stay next to you no wonder what; someone who is not afraid to present their emotions for you and only you.
Someone who will try everything just to love you, get back to you no matter what.
And I promise, from the deepest roots of my heart, that I will dearly love them where every moment would feel like the first time - the rushed heartbeats, flowing hormones, aching hearts and locked eyes. We will love the way that we do - and it may be similar to others - but in the end, we know that what we have is different and special for ourselves.
Beethovenâs âFur Eliseâ. The strong faith in love that was driven between Schumann, Brahms and Clara.
Like how one composes songs dedicated for another and one paints in shades of pastels reminiscing of their significant other. Like the love letters written in ink that took quite a while to pick out at the store, wrapped in delicate enveloped covered with kiss marks. Like the singing and humming dedicated for the ears of the other.
It is what you want, and therefore you wait - for who knows how long, expecting that person, who will achieve accomplishment throughout a journey together with you.
âââââââ
Hello! This is my first entry hereeee:)
The picture was carefully brought here from pinterest and was in my album, I do not know any individual in the photo but they gave me great inspiration on writing this piece. The photo really speaks warmth and radiates energy IMO - so romantic!
Jan 28, 2025
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Feb 25, 2025
â
is indifference the trend now? it seems like the moment someone shows genuine interest in something, theyâre met with the same dismissal as a child asking one too many questionsâI'll explain later. but later never comes
yesterday in literature class, something clicked. I finally grasped the scientific reasoning behind a certain work, and it fueled me, inspired me to discuss interpretations with my peers. but when I spoke up, I was met with silenceâa subtle, unspoken cue to keep my thoughts to myself
in that moment, I felt embarrassed, even stupid, for wanting to dig deeper. but later, I realized they might have just wanted some peace after a long lesson. maybe it wasnât about me at allâŚ
however, this wasnât an isolated moment. time and time again, when I try to have meaningful conversations about things I truly care about, the response is often the same: why are you even thinking about this? why does it matter?
somehow, not caring has become the golden standard. indifference is effortless, and effort is something to be mocked. itâs "cool" to disengage, to float through school without interest, to never give things a second thought. and those who do care? theyâre met with resistance, as if their curiosity itself is an inconvenience
the whole chill guy persona and the propaganda of nonchalance do more harm than we realise. we glorify the effortlessly cool, detached observerâthe person who never tries too hard, never gets too invested, never asks too many questions. passion is seen as cringe, enthusiasm as uncool, and intellectual curiosity as trying too hard. and yet, itâs exactly this mindset that holds us back
when we stop seeking, we stop growing. when we refuse to ask questions, we accept what weâre given without ever challenging it. nonchalance might feel safeâit protects us from judgment, from looking foolish, from admitting we careâbut it also makes us stagnant. it robs us of the thrill of discovery, the depth of connection, the joy of truly understanding something
so maybe itâs time to let go of the chill guy persona and the nonchalant act. itâs time to embrace caringâdeeply, unapologetically, wholeheartedly. because the world doesnât move forward on indifference. it moves forward on those who dare to be curious and whimsyâŚ
Feb 26, 2025
âźď¸
live passionately!!!!
use exclamation marks!!!
live a little and feel even more!!!!!
Feb 24, 2025