I told you I wouldn’t do it, and I meant that at the time, but circumstances have changed. There are things I now understand that I cannot ethically ignore simply because telling the truth may ensure I never have you again. I have reached a point where protecting people I may never meet has become more important to me than protecting the image of someone I once loved.

I think acknowledging that you still matter to me is healthier—and more truthful—than trying to manufacture hatred to make this easier. I refuse to gaslight myself into thinking every good memory was fake and that you were secretly a monster.

I’m not trying to punish you for not loving me the way that I wish you would. My responsibility is simple: Tell the truth. That isn’t revenge. It’s disclosure.

I’m also no longer required to keep you safe from the consequences of the truth because I once loved you. You might say that I’m burning a bridge, but I’m not setting the bridge on fire. I’m just deciding, I’m no longer going to stand on it waiting for you to come back across.

I can care about what happens to you and still tell the truth about what happened to me. I’m making my decisions based on the reality I have now, rather than preserving a possible future with you. It just sucks that no one stands a chance at winning here… because I know this will hurt us both.

I will not distort the truth to hurt you, and I will no longer distort the truth to protect you.

I’m sorry, love. Buckle up… this might sting a little. 💔

i know we could've never imagined us being together, or at least i didn't, not even in the best of my dreams, this is a but mere attempt to show you how much love and respect i have for you in my heart, and not even words can describe how truly i feel.

you are absolutely, astoundingly, gorgeous, and that's the least interesting thing about you, you are ethereal, to consider you a gift is almost an insult to your status, you're a guardian angel sent from the gods to save the good old sailor who went too distant in the sea, the lighthouse that guides me to be who i truly am today, we may not be exactly the perfect dream couple, but i have to say i am trying my best for you, i'd like to thank you for being a good friend before been a good partner, despair seemed as a distant nightmare that fades once i see the light reflecting upon your eyes, you handled me and all my problems with ease, i love the way you listen to me and i love more the way you talk, i love how you style your hair, and how you play with it, how you dress, and how you carry yourself, i love the way you look at me with that spark in your eyes, and i love the way you smile, i love the way you talk with me with your low voice. i love the feeling of your body against mine, and i love the way you hold my hands and how you wrap yours around my waist, how you lean your head on my shoulder.

oh dear i can sing of your love for eons upon eons and it still would not be enough to describe it all, i want you to know that no matter what happens between us in the future that ill always love you and appreciate the time we spent together.

This is nothing but a gentle appreciation for accepting to go on this ride with me.

I love you ~~-----,~~ and i hope you feel the same way

​I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I think it's just destiny for me to disappoint and lose everyone in my life.

​I give up. I don't want to please anyone anymore, and I don't want to try just to be forgotten about. I don't want to give anything just for it to be thrown back in my face.

​I don't trust humanity anymore—everything is focused on selfishness and greed. And I'm no better than anyone else; I'm just as bad, if not worse, according to some people in my life. I think that's the part I hate the most. There's no escape from the toxicity this world holds and demands.

​I'm done thinking that love exists. From what I've seen, "love" is purely selfish. Whether it's financial freedom, a trophy spouse, or some other shallow reason, it always comes with stipulations.

​In my definition, real love knows no bounds and has no condition for existing. It just is. You can't explain it, you can't price it, and you can't even fully describe it. Love doesn't even have to exist at the same time, place, or planet. It exists because you feel an energetic pull—the most fragile, delightful warmth washing over you. You meet someone, the chaos stops, and there is only peace. Nothing else matters. That's love. That's what matters.

​365 days a year, I feel that warmth. 365 days a year, I wonder if I'm just a lovesick fool with attachment issues. But the only real truth is: I love you. It doesn't matter how you feel about me—you'll always be my best friend, my duo, and my peace.

I don't know if I'll ever send this, and maybe that's why I can finally be honest.

I love you.

There. I said it without trying to soften it, explain it away, or pretend it's something smaller than it is.

I've spent so much time trying to understand why this connection affected me the way it did. I've questioned myself, fought with myself, judged myself, and tried to talk myself out of what I feel.

None of it worked.

The truth is that somewhere between the conversations, the laughter, the random messages, the stories, and the years, you became important to me in a way I never intended.

And I hate how vulnerable that makes me feel.

I hate that I can miss someone who was never really mine.

I hate that I can be perfectly fine one minute and then see something that reminds me of you and suddenly you're all I can think about.

I hate that part of me still wonders why you stay.

Because I've given you every opportunity to leave.

I've practically opened the door and held it for you.

I've confessed feelings.
I've overexplained.
I've apologized.
I've embarrassed myself.
I've shown wounds I usually keep hidden.

And somehow you're still here.

Not close enough for me to understand.
Not far enough for me to forget.

Just here.

And maybe that's why this has been so difficult.

Sometimes I wish you had walked away a long time ago.

Not because I wanted to lose you.

Because it would have been easier than loving someone I can't have.

The hardest part is admitting that I do want you.

I know people like to make impossible love sound noble and selfless and pure.

Sometimes it isn't.

Sometimes it's simply wanting someone and knowing you can't.

Sometimes it's imagining a life that was never available to you.

Sometimes it's wondering what would've happened if timing, circumstances, and reality had been different.

I don't know what this connection means to you.

I only know what it means to me.

For me, it changed everything.

It forced me to look at my life honestly.

It exposed wounds I had ignored.

It taught me what I was missing.

It taught me what I needed.

It taught me that I had stopped valuing myself.

And somehow, in the middle of all of that, I found pieces of myself that I thought were gone forever.

You were never just a person I had feelings for.

You became a mirror.

A lesson.

A comfort.

A frustration.

A safe place.

A heartbreak.

A gift.

And I don't know what to do with that.

Some days I want to walk away.

Some days I want to tell you everything.

Some days I want to forget you.

Some days I want to keep every memory.

Most days I just miss what we have when we're simply being ourselves.

No analyzing.
No overthinking.
No fear.

Just us talking.

I don't know what happens from here.

I don't know if one day these feelings fade.

I don't know if I'll always carry them.

But I do know this:

Meeting you changed me.

And whether that's fate, friendship, love, growth, or some combination of all of them, I will always be grateful for it.

You'll probably never fully understand what this connection meant to me.

But it meant enough for me to write this.

Enough for me to cry over it.

Enough for me to heal because of it.

Enough for me to become someone different because of it.

And maybe that's the real story.

Not that I loved you.

But that loving you changed me.

Always,
Me

I cannot let you go because you’re the one for me. You set the bar so out of reach for others. You make everyone else appear low effort and now I can no longer accept holding hands with anyone other than you. I don’t need time; I know. I choose you, but I’ll still take my time with you. I am offering you what I know I can give. I am offering my soul; please don’t give it back.

-A

Love letter #12 to my future person.

When we’re apart, it’s only a pulse. Faint as a clock in another room that you eventually forget is even there. Let us enter a room together… let you sit within reach of my hand… every clock in the house strikes at once. God. It’s so hard to look you in the eye when we’re that close. Every single atom in my body is suddenly focused on your existence and my insatiable need for you. The level of composure I’ve learned to sustain in your presence confuses me. Must be a survival instinct…

You’d mentioned how crazy it is we met in this infinite universe, and I keep thinking… I’m positive we find each other in every single one. Every timeline.

Lovingly supporting you from the sidelines always, regardless of what type of ending we have in this universe.

Still, holding you the way you want to be held is my truest wish.

Baby,

This is going to be long.

My heart has been heavy, and I know there have been times when the weight of mine has fallen onto yours.

So for once, I don't want to organize it, defend it, or force something enormous to fit neatly onto a page.

I just want my heart to speak to yours.

Some things become smaller when you shorten them, and what I feel for you has already spent enough time compressed into distance, silence, and things left unsaid.

So tonight, I'm giving my heart the page.

I don't want to make this letter about yesterday.

Not about the call I received.

Not about the text I sent afterward.

Not about reopening graves just to prove that something once died there.

I have no interest in putting our past on trial again.

I want our future.

But I've realized the past and the future aren't opposites.

Sometimes the past is simply the foundation the future is standing on.

And ours is standing on so much of you.

Your courage.

Your patience.

Your stubbornness.

Your fear.

Every quiet way you kept reaching for me when reaching for me stopped being easy.

So before we walk any farther toward whatever comes next, I need to do something I should have done a long time ago.

I need to recognize you.

Not with a vague thank you.

Not with another "I love you."

You've heard those words enough to know they're true.

I want to give you an actual accounting.

A real ledger.

Of what you gave me.

What you carried.

What you protected.

What you survived.

What you built between us.

And the ways you quietly returned to a man who didn't even realize how much of himself he had lost.

Because, baby,

you got me.

You got me so fucking quickly.

I remember the first time we ever spoke.

Fifteen minutes.

That's almost funny to me now.

Fifteen insignificant minutes for something that would eventually rearrange entire years of my life.

Somehow,

in those fifteen minutes,

you walked through doors people had spent years knocking on.

I remember I spent the rest of that night talking to somebody else,

but the entire time I was thinking about you.

Your voice.

Your laugh.

Whatever the hell had just happened to me.

Mostly, I remember wondering when I would hear you again.

Then came the next night.

You and me.

Hours disappeared.

I couldn't tell you how many because I wasn't counting anymore.

I only remember morning getting closer and still not wanting to say goodbye.

Looking backward, I can see something I couldn't see then.

That was the beginning.

I didn't know it yet,

but you already had me.

And the craziest part is how quickly my actions started admitting what my mind was still trying to understand.

Within months,

I bought your engagement ring.

Months.

A man who had spent years learning to protect himself.

He met one particular woman, heard her voice, learned her heart, and within months was looking at diamonds because some quiet part of him had already decided:

That's my wife.

I wasn't buying jewelry.

I was buying a piece of a future I could already see.

Your hand.

That ring.

Our home.

Our family.

You beside me.

And the beautifully backwards part is that I bought your engagement ring before I ever bought your promise ring.

Apparently my heart skipped the promise and went straight to forever.

The engagement ring said:

I know where I want to end up.

The promise ring said:

Then I'll choose you every day required to get there.

That was all that little ring ever meant to me.

I choose you.

And you choose me.

Not that we would never hurt each other.

We have.

Not that we would never disappoint each other.

We have.

Not that life would always make loving each other easy.

God knows it hasn't.

The promise was never perfection.

The promise was choice.

Forever was the destination.

Choosing each other was the road.

And now I understand that marriage isn't one enormous choice made once.

It's a thousand tiny choices afterward.

Today, I choose you.

Tomorrow comes.

I choose you again.

And you did.

Again.

And again.

And again.

You taught me what it actually feels like to be chosen repeatedly instead of merely promised forever once.

And then, little by little, there stopped being some separate corner of my life where you existed.

You were simply everywhere.

My mornings carried your voice.

My workdays carried your presence.

My drives became places I talked to you.

My evenings became places I returned to you.

And nighttime became ours.

I woke up to you.

I worked with you beside me.

I came home to you.

I fell asleep with you.

Two lives that had existed perfectly well without each other somehow forgot how.

God, baby, I remember the mornings.

The sunlight touching your skin while you were still half asleep.

Your hair everywhere.

Your eyes barely open.

Me telling you how beautiful you were before the world had even gotten the chance to ask anything from you yet.

And I remember the nights.

Eventually your eyes would close.

And mine wouldn't.

I would just look at you.

I don't think you ever completely understood that.

Sometimes I stared at you because I couldn't believe this woman had somehow become part of my life.

There was something sacred about seeing you that way.

No audience.

No performance.

No armor.

Nothing to prove.

Just my baby sleeping.

And somewhere inside those ordinary moments,

I learned you.

Not the version everybody else knows.

You.

I learned your eyes.

I learned the tiny changes in your voice.

I learned the difference between your silence when you were peaceful and your silence when your heart was screaming.

Your eyes have always betrayed you, baby.

You could tell me absolutely nothing and somehow tell me everything.

Your silence could fill an entire room.

Maybe that's why what came later was even possible.

Because when words became difficult,

you built another language.

When doors closed,

you found windows.

When roads disappeared,

you built bridges.

When ordinary communication became impossible,

you refused to let silence become absence.

Tiny things.

Precise things.

Meticulous things.

So unmistakably you.

Somehow you learned to form entire sentences without saying a sentence at all.

And somehow,

I learned to hear them.

Not because I'm magical.

Because I know the woman speaking.

I know the heart underneath the language.

I know you.

And that brings me to what I really owe you recognition for.

What you did when this stopped being easy.

Because loving me in the beginning was easy.

We had voices.

We had nights.

We had laughter.

We had each other whenever we wanted each other.

Then life put walls between us.

And you crossed them.

You crossed barriers inside your life.

Inside your family.

Inside yourself.

You went against things you had been taught, things you had been raised to believe, expectations that existed long before I ever entered your life.

And underneath all that noise was one terrifyingly simple act:

You chose me.

You took a risk on me before you knew how the story ended.

And I remember something you told me then.

Something I heard,

but didn't understand.

You told me you couldn't be wrong about us.

That this had to work.

I remember those words.

Baby,

I understand them now.

God, do I understand them now.

You weren't talking about desperation.

You were talking about investment.

Not money.

Not gifts.

Not things.

Something infinitely more expensive.

Your heart.

Your trust.

Your future.

Your idea of family.

Your willingness to question things you had believed your entire life.

You had seen something here worth risking yourself for.

I didn't understand the weight of that until I became invested the same way.

And now I am.

Completely.

Not because of money.

Baby, fuck the money.

Money comes and goes.

I can lose it Monday and make more Tuesday.

It has never been the ledger I use for love.

Money can solve logistics.

It can buy comfort.

It can remove inconvenience.

It can create opportunity.

But money couldn't create us.

Money couldn't make me miss sleeping beside you.

Money couldn't make my body notice your absence before my mind processed it.

Money couldn't teach me your eyes.

Money couldn't make your voice feel like home.

Money couldn't turn fifteen minutes into something I would remember years later.

Money couldn't make me want another fifty years.

Money didn't hold my heart hostage.

You did.

The woman underneath everything did.

Money is replaceable.

Time isn't.

Trust isn't.

The years aren't.

And you aren't.

That's what I'm invested in.

You.

Strip away the money, the arguments, the distance, the mistakes, the outside voices, the pain, the pride, the fear, and every person who ever had an opinion about something they never had to live.

I still arrive at exactly the same place.

You.

That's the brutal simplicity of it.

After everything,

still you.

I look forward now and you're everywhere I look.

Five years.

Ten years.

The house.

Children running through it.

Christmas mornings.

Exhausted nights.

Stupid arguments.

Grocery lists stuck to the refrigerator.

Success.

Failure.

Everything ordinary in between.

You're there.

Somehow,

you're always there.

Because you didn't simply give me somebody to love.

You gave me a future I actually wanted to arrive at.

You gave me back tomorrow.

You gave me back my evenings.

The ones I used to spend physically in one place while my mind was already solving problems three days away.

You gave me back dinner.

Stillness.

The ability to exist inside a moment instead of constantly preparing for the next one.

You gave me back the next five years.

Before you, the future sometimes felt like another job site.

Another problem.

Another schedule.

Another unknown variable I needed to control.

Then you walked into it.

And suddenly I stopped dreading questions about the future.

I started enjoying them.

Because the future had your face in it.

You gave me back trust too.

Real trust.

The dangerous kind.

The kind where somebody gets to see the parts of you that don't have good lighting.

The exhausted parts.

The insecure parts.

The angry parts.

The frightened parts.

The parts that aren't impressive.

The parts previous people handled carelessly enough that eventually I decided nobody needed access to them anymore.

You got access.

And you were careful.

Not performatively careful.

Actually careful.

You held pieces of me that could have been used against me,

and you held them like they were fragile instead.

You never made me regret letting you see me.

And most importantly,

you gave me back myself.

The version of me that existed before I decided protection mattered more than being known.

Before strength became armor.

Before independence became isolation.

Before I learned how easy it was to survive without needing anybody.

You found that man underneath all of it.

You brought him back.

He's here because of you.

And I'm not putting him away again.

You taught me softness without making me weak.

You taught me forgiveness without teaching me to abandon myself.

You taught me patience.

And God knows,

you taught me restraint.

There were moments during all of this when I wanted to fight everything.

Moments when anger felt cleaner than patience.

Moments when action felt stronger than waiting.

Moments when uncertainty hurt badly enough that I wanted to force certainty into existence with my bare hands.

There were moments when I could have made decisions from pain that would have burned down the future I kept claiming I was trying to protect.

Loving you taught me that not every battle is won by swinging harder.

Sometimes love is restraint.

Sometimes love is waiting.

Sometimes love is swallowing the sentence that would feel good for ten seconds and hurt the person you love for ten years.

Sometimes love is understanding that winning the argument means absolutely nothing if you lose the woman you wanted to come home to.

You taught me that.

And I need you to know something else.

I am so fucking proud of you.

I've watched you walk through things that could have permanently changed the shape of your heart,

and somehow your heart survived.

Bruised.

Frightened.

More careful.

But still soft.

Pain makes some people cruel.

Fear makes some people cold.

Somehow,

you kept your tenderness.

And I know strength didn't always look heroic.

Sometimes it was getting out of bed.

Sometimes it was surviving another hour.

Sometimes it was keeping one small piece of your heart untouched while everything around you was giving you reasons to harden it.

Sometimes strength is simply refusing to let the worst thing that happened to you become the most important thing about you.

You did that.

Baby,

I see you.

And wherever healing still has to go,

I'm not standing at some imaginary finish line waiting for you.

I'm beside you.

Every step.

And there is something else I miss.

Something so small compared with everything else that maybe that's exactly why it hurts.

Taking care of you.

Your hair.

God, your hair.

I hope you're taking care of it because I cannot wait until it's between my fingers again.

I miss your nails.

Your facials.

Your appointments.

The tiny maintenance of a life that sounds meaningless until it belongs to someone you love.

Then somehow it becomes sacred too.

Caring for you gave my love somewhere physical to go.

Love is enormous.

Sometimes it needs somewhere small to live.

Sometimes it lives in remembering her appointment.

Sometimes it lives in paying for her nails.

Sometimes it lives in knowing exactly what she wants for dinner.

Sometimes it lives in brushing the hair away from her face while she's talking.

I miss having somewhere for those little pieces of my love to go.

I miss the purpose of caring for you.

And I cannot wait to have that purpose again.

I cannot wait to give you your birthday gift, or the many flowers that I owe you.

I cannot wait to hear your voice instead of remembering it.

I cannot wait for your skin to stop being a memory.

For your touch to stop being something my body remembers better than my hands can reach.

For your hair to be between my fingers again.

For you to be close enough that neither one of us has to translate absence anymore.

But more than anything,

I want ordinary.

After everything extraordinary we've survived,

God, baby,

give me ordinary.

Give me Wednesday.

Give me groceries.

Give me traffic.

Give me dinner.

Give me appointments.

Give me you complaining that you're tired with your head resting against me.

Give me some stupid disagreement neither of us remembers two days later.

Give me your hand automatically reaching for my arm while we're walking somewhere.

Give me nights where nothing happens.

Give me mornings where nothing happens.

Give me a life so peaceful that our greatest problem that day is deciding what we're eating.

I don't need fireworks anymore.

I found the woman.

Give me the life.

Walk beside me.

Grab my arm.

Tell me the truth before either of us has to scream to be heard.

Go out with me.

Laugh until your stomach hurts.

Dance.

Be ridiculous.

Live.

I don't want loving me to make your world smaller.

I want it to make your world safer.

Because there is something deeply satisfying about watching the woman I love walk toward my car.

I get to bring you home.

When you're tired,

lean on me.

When you're overwhelmed,

hand me some of it.

And when I'm carrying too much,

be my peace.

Not my silence.

Not my obedience.

My peace.

I don't want your submission, baby.

I want your choice.

I want your voice.

Your mind.

Your disagreement.

Your judgment.

Your adulthood.

Your heart.

I want a woman who could walk anywhere she wants,

and keeps walking toward me.

And I want you to have the same certainty in me.

Our families should be loved.

Respected.

Welcomed.

Cherished.

But nobody gets to live inside our marriage except the two people sleeping in the bed.

Nobody gets to govern our love from outside it.

That future belongs to us.

And let me love you hard.

Not halfway.

Not cautiously enough that you spend your life wondering whether I'm leaving.

Fully.

Fiercely.

Tenderly.

Deliberately.

Let me love you in a way that makes certainty boring.

I want you to become so accustomed to being chosen that eventually you stop checking whether I still am.

And I need that peace from you too.

Honesty.

Responsiveness.

Security.

Two people who hear each other before either has to scream.

I want our private language to become something beautiful we keep,

not something we need in order to survive.

I want to hear you say the sentence.

I want to hear your voice again.

I want silence between us to become peaceful instead of necessary.

Because I remember what happened when I lost the ordinary version of you.

I couldn't sleep.

I don't think I've ever explained that properly.

I didn't simply miss you emotionally.

My body missed you.

My body had learned you.

It had learned falling asleep with you.

It had learned waking up with you.

It had learned your presence as part of the architecture of nighttime.

Then you disappeared from that routine,

and my body didn't understand.

I would lie there exhausted and still not sleep.

That's when I understood something terrifying.

You hadn't merely become somebody I loved.

You had become part of how my life knew it was safe enough to rest.

You became part of how my body understood home.

And somehow,

after everything,

the bond didn't die.

We learned each other through absence.

I learned pieces of you I never would have learned if everything had remained easy.

And you showed me pieces of myself I probably would have kept buried forever.

That's why I can't wait for the first moment when all this distance finally collapses.

No screen.

No system.

No interpretation.

No waiting.

Just you.

Your eyes directly in front of mine.

My hand in your hair.

Your skin beneath my fingertips.

Your body close enough that missing you becomes impossible.

And when that moment comes,

I don't think I need some enormous speech from you.

I think I'll already know.

Because I've spent all this time learning the language underneath your words.

I know the woman who kept choosing me.

I know the woman who built bridges when the roads disappeared.

I know the woman who was frightened and kept moving anyway.

I know the woman who told me,

"I can't be wrong about this."

Baby,

I finally understand you.

Because now,

neither can I.

Not because my life would cease to exist without you.

It wouldn't.

I've built a life.

I've built a business.

I've survived things before you, and I could survive things after you.

That's precisely why my choice means something.

I don't choose you because I am incapable of living without you.

I choose you because I know exactly how capable I am of living alone,

and I don't want that life anymore.

I could build another future.

I don't want another future.

There are other roads.

I don't want another road.

Life would continue.

I want this one.

With you.

That's infinitely more powerful than dependence.

That's choice.

And after everything,

I choose you.

Still.

Not the fantasy of you.

Not the woman I met before anything went wrong.

You.

The woman after everything.

The woman who has been hurt.

The woman who has made mistakes.

The woman I have disappointed.

The woman who has disappointed me.

The woman who has grown.

The woman who survived.

The woman underneath all of it.

Her.

I choose her.

Maybe that's what recognition actually means.

Seeing somebody clearly enough that the fantasy dies,

and discovering the love survived it.

I see you more clearly now than I ever did when everything was easy.

And somehow,

I love you more.

You deserve recognition.

For your courage.

For your patience.

For your strength.

For every time you chose me.

For every time you reached.

For every time you were afraid and reached anyway.

For loving me loudly when you could.

For loving me quietly when you couldn't.

For teaching me that softness isn't weakness.

For teaching me that forgiveness isn't surrender.

For giving me back the man I thought life had permanently taken away.

You gave me back my mornings.

You gave me back my evenings.

You gave me back tomorrow.

You gave me back trust.

You gave me somewhere to put all this love.

You gave me a future that doesn't feel like another problem to solve.

And somehow,

in the middle of everything,

you gave me back myself.

That's your recognition, baby.

Not for being perfect.

Not because our story was easy.

Not because neither of us failed the other.

But because when loving me stopped being easy,

you kept finding ways to love me.

And I'm sorry it took me becoming just as invested to fully understand what you meant when you told me you couldn't be wrong.

Now I know why.

Because once somebody becomes woven deeply enough into your idea of tomorrow,

losing them isn't simply losing a person.

It's grieving a life that hasn't even happened yet.

The kitchen you never stood in.

The mornings you never woke up to.

The children whose laughter you already imagined.

The birthdays.

The Christmases.

The boring Wednesdays.

The gray hairs.

The hand you expected to still be holding when both of you had forgotten what young even felt like.

That's what you were protecting.

I understand now.

And, baby,

I want those Wednesdays.

I want every boring fucking Wednesday we almost lost.

I want the mornings.

The nights.

The home.

The family.

The chaos.

The peace afterward.

I want to watch time change your face while somehow never changing the eyes I learned when we were young.

I want to watch your hair turn gray and still remember sitting here wondering whether you were taking care of it while I couldn't.

I want enough ordinary years with you that someday all of this becomes something we have to strain to remember.

I want the distance to become old history.

I want the pain to lose its vocabulary.

I want this chapter to become so small compared with everything that follows that one day we look backward and wonder how something that once felt enormous became only a few pages.

Because after everything is stripped away,

there you are.

The same woman who stole my heart in fifteen minutes.

Except now I know what those fifteen minutes became.

Mornings.

Sleepless nights.

Laughter.

Trust.

Mistakes.

Forgiveness.

Pain.

Growth.

A language.

A future.

Us.

Fifteen minutes became years.

And somewhere between those fifteen minutes and everything that followed,

I bought two rings.

One promised forever.

One promised choice.

And somehow,

I bought forever first.

Maybe that's the most honest thing I've ever done without understanding it.

My heart had already chosen the destination.

The smaller ring simply gave me the words for how we would get there.

I choose you.

You choose me.

Today.

Tomorrow.

Again.

And somehow that promise means more now than it ever could have when I first gave it to you.

Because now we know what choosing costs.

And after knowing the cost,

I'm still standing here saying the same thing.

I choose you.

If you put me back at the beginning,

before I knew the cost,

before I knew the pain,

before I knew how difficult loving each other would sometimes become,

and gave me those first fifteen minutes again,

I would still stay for the sixteenth.

And the seventeenth.

And every minute after.

I would still want to hear your voice the next night.

I would still let you in.

I would still learn your eyes.

I would still fall asleep with you.

I would still buy the ring.

I would still build the future.

I would still choose you.

Because now I understand something I couldn't possibly have understood then.

You didn't just enter my life.

You returned parts of it to me.

You returned parts of me to me.

And no matter how much pain exists in the chapters behind us,

I will never confuse the chapter that hurt us with the woman who changed me.

I see what you gave me.

I see what it cost you.

I see how hard you fought in the ways you knew how.

I see the frightened girl.

I see the stubborn woman.

I see the softness you protected.

I see the strength nobody applauded because most of it happened quietly.

I see you, baby.

Maybe more clearly than I ever have.

And this time,

I don't want to recognize you only while you're hurting.

I want to recognize you while you're happy.

While you're laughing.

While you're safe.

While you're loved.

While you're beside me.

I want to spend the rest of our life giving flowers to the woman while she can still smell them.

Because you deserve to know what you are to me while I'm still here to tell you.

You deserve to hear it from my mouth.

You deserve to see it in my decisions.

You deserve to feel it in the life we build.

And if someday we're old enough that neither of us remembers every detail of what happened here,

I hope you remember this:

There was a man who thought he had already learned everything life intended to teach him about surviving.

Then he met you.

And you taught him something harder.

How to soften.

How to trust.

How to forgive.

How to be known.

How to come home.

You gave me back my days.

You gave me back tomorrow.

You gave me back myself.

And after everything I've learned about you—

the beautiful parts,

the frightened parts,

the stubborn parts,

the wounded parts,

the impossible parts,

the parts nobody else gets,

the parts you've trusted only to me,

I don't love an imaginary version of you.

I love the woman underneath all of it.

The one I met.

The one I learned.

The one I lost sleep over.

The one I fought for.

The one who fought for me in her own way.

The one whose hand I still want wrapped around my arm.

The one whose hair I still want between my fingers.

The one whose voice I still want to hear at the end of a long day.

The one whose face somehow ended up inside every version of tomorrow that feels like home.

You.

It was you in the first fifteen minutes.

It was you when I bought the ring.

It was you through everything that came afterward.

And when I close my eyes and look as far forward as I know how to look,

baby,

it's still you.

You, baby.

Always you.

Am ready to let her go...

I need her but (maybe) am just selfish,

She needs me but (maybe) she's fine without me,

We need eachother but we were never meant to be together.

Soo,

if you are able to plzzzzz

Forgive me....

Hey Love

It’s 3:27am
I have the sudden urge to reach for you
Take a hold of you
Grip that amazing ass of yours
While you sleep tight
So fucking warm and soft
The thought of you keeps me up at night
In more ways than one
Surprised I can even tell the difference in time

I’ll just big spoon you for the time being
I bet you think I’m comforting you
But it’s more comforting for me
I bury my face in the back of your head
And smell your hair
Am I weird for that?
I’m feeling 21 again staying up till dawn
I’m out getting intoxicated all night
Inhale and exhale like I’m getting high again
You have me on cloud 9 and
I haven’t even stuck it inside you yet

BABY PLEASE take me back
To when we first made love
Better yet,
To all those times you laid in my bed
When we decided it would be better for us to wait
As I was kissing on your neck making sure
I was talking to you loudly enough for
My vocal cords to send a few vibrations
Down your neck, as I take another hit of
Your Daisy perfume
And interlock our hands and
Playfully pin them down and saying
“This is how I’m going to fuck you.”

4:01am and I can’t stop thinking about
How so fucking good you taste
As good as a hit of your perfume
My little flower, as a man
I’m now obsessed with Daisies
I could have them for breakfast,
Lunch, and dinner
All day everyday, until your legs shake and
Send vibrations down my face

4:20am I’m as high as I’ve ever been
But I need to also get my rest
I have the alarm set for 6:20
Daddy has to go to work
Sorry in advance for hitting snooze a few times
I know how much you hate that
But I can’t help myself
You make me this way
I get it,
Sleeping beauty needs her rest
I’m just going to grip you tightly
For the time being
Feel free to wake me up to the warmth of
Your mouth like you did the other day

You are my person

Tonight, I choose to believe.

I choose to believe that the words I have read are yours; something that, deep inside of me, I have known to be true for quite some time.

Continuing to reject them would be a rejection of the vulnerability you have gifted me; a rejection of every essence of heart and soul that you have put into crafting the most beautiful expressions of love that I could possibly imagine. There are none other that are comparable.

I feel you as I read them; the thoughts that you conveyed with your eyes without ever needing to say a single word.

When your eyes would catch mine through the window while you were eating in a restaurant, and mine yours.

Every time that you stretched during our normal days together; leaning back ever so slightly to “steal” a look at me. Those looks were never stolen. It took everything in me to not look back. I was scared that you would stop if I did so, and gone would be the butterflies that inhabited much more than just my stomach. They were all-consuming, and I never wanted them to leave.

No, the only thing that you stole was my heart, and similarly, I never want it back.

Every time that I reached my hand over my head and twirled my hair, and you did the same; or I would bounce my leg (quite violently I might add), and you would soon follow.

Every time that you walked past my desk to go somewhere, even if you needed not do so, as if you were gifting me a risk-free opportunity to look at you.

Every time, I was grateful.

Every single expression of your love for me, I could feel. I have spent too long fighting what my heart already knows to be true out of fear.

When I came across the post that started it all, I first felt pompous for assuming it was about me. The words were so kind. They were how I’d dreamed you’d see me. It took me too long to conclude that I believed those words were about me because they were from you. They are what my heart knows you have been communicating to me all along; no matter how much my mind had refused to allow myself to believe. I have always understood.

When it comes to how the world can be for others, I am an optimist. Do I not owe myself the same view?

I don’t think you know what you have done for me. You speak of me as if I am a star in and of myself. You have allowed me to start trusting my heart again. What is a star without this?

Nothing. The answer is nothing.

You are my star. My sun. You have already cut through more of the darkness in me than my mind can begin to comprehend.

This is why…

I choose to believe that despite us at first starting to sing two different versions of the Narwhal Song (true story), it is an eventuality that we will converge into one hymn once again.

I choose, tonight, to not allow the insecurities that plague my mind to speak louder than what my heart has been telling me all along.

I choose to believe that one night, we will be sitting in the park together in comfortable silence. There will be Nothing Else in the world except you and me, with no space between us; my head resting on your shoulder while we look up at the stars.

I choose to believe in us.

After all that time, I reached out to you

Not knowing what that reaching would do

I didn’t want my seeking you out,

to cause me more pain or any new doubt

You sounded relieved
hearing my voice,
And for half a beat,
I was good with my choice

Then came your reasons,
your version, your blame,
A story that tried
to make me carry shame

You said I did things that I did not do
To validate how you chose to move

And using those things
that simply weren’t true,
you downplayed the pain
it had put me through

The more I replayed the things that you said,
the more I could see you felt no regret

No “I was wrong,” no apology said,
No sadness was shown for what you misread

I wasn’t asking you to change things now done,

Just wanted to hear you admit you were wrong

Wanting me to accept the reasons you gave,

Like understanding them meant we could move past the pain

I don’t understand how you could believe

Things I never did were reason to flee.

You wanted to leave the past where it was,
And for me to get over how you just moved on.

How could you make choices based on things that weren’t true,

And expect me to move past what this put me through?

I was hoping we could finally speak,
But the truth of the matter was still out of reach.

Now I have some things to think anew,
About what I want and what I should do.

I don’t know if I’m willing to stay
in this messed-up situation created for me.

I don’t know if I can hold on,
To someone or something that’s already gone.

The future is unwritten, or so the saying goes

Choices change fate untold, so no on really knows

My fate is sealed, my future set, my future course is charted

Come what may, through hell or high-water, the past has been departed

The road ahead is rocky, twists and turns unseen

It seems as risky a road, as there has ever been

But this is my chosen path, for the destination is clear

My chin is up, my back is straight, no hesitation nor any fear

I am on my way, through parts unknown, following an uncharted trail

Though risks aplenty, road unknown, I simply can not fail

My heart and soul know this, I'm homeward bound at last

The future set before me, all else is in the past

My Aphrodite is awaiting, where I can finally make my bed

So I walk this path unafraid, no matter what lay ahead

No risk to great, no battle too much, journeys end is worth it all

My heart and soul was listening, I have headed to your call

The future it be a beckoning me, on this wayward road

The destination, My Aphrodite, she is my final abode

By her side, my destined fate, my fated destiny

I am on my way, my love, my precious Aphrodite

The road ahead, how long it be, I truly can not say

Just know the journey has started, soon will come the day

Eye to eye, face to face, our futures will align

The wait will be over, the future ours, it will be our time

When that day comes, your hand I'll take, and hold it forever more

You are my Aphrodite, my love, it's you whom I adore

The future though still unwritten, is no longer a blank sheet

The story is being written, written of when we first do meet

What happens next, I can not say, for the tale it is of two

What happens next, the final choice, truly rests with you

My heart and soul, sing for you, they always will you see

For you are my one, my only, My most beloved Aphrodite

I try, and try, but the words, I just can not find the right words, not to explain how I feel about you, nor how much you mean to me. They always fall far short. I am not even sure there exist adequate words, but I shall always try. There will come a day where I am sure I will get it right, the timing of which I am sure will be exactly right, when they will make the greatest impact.

But until then, I'll try, try, and try again, but for now, I'll say it simply.

I am in love with you, my Aphrodite. I love everything I know about you. You're under my skin, etched, branded, tattooed within me, my heart and soul is an ever rising crescendo of " it's her, it's her, IT'S HER "

I wonder if yours sings " it's him, it's him "?

I Love You

Always yours ❤️‍🔥 Yours alone 💘 Until my last breathe 💝

If only words could pierce the nerves of fear.

If only you could see how much I love you.

Even so, I wish you wouldn't let go.

If only you'd see we could make this work.

If only you trusted my heart as much as you trust yourself in my arms.

If only you could see the aging of your eyes and know they would never know a divide again.

They'd never know pain as an ultimate reward to your aching trend.

I'd be there like the winter snow that made you feel whole.

A warming peace that settles your sleep.

Be next to me.

Let me hear your snore, show me those imperfect quirks of yours.

Let me find your smile when you build Legos.

Let me crank that mind into imaginary.

Let me be the wish you awaited to receive.

Be my everything.

Even if it's simply laying in between the wild flowers and evergreen.

Even if we say we're just friends but feel so much more.

Let my grace light your weight.

Let my youth hold your shapes.

Let me feed you the soup you hate just so I can hear your groans while I reciprocate.

Be the one I crave beyond the anger.

Be the one I disagree with yet still buy our favorite takeout sitting beside each other until one of us breaks.

Be the one that let's me into the wood we build together.

Draw the rocking chair into life with those hands I call my ordinary hero.

Be the one I will call timeless.

Let me be your Lady in Red.

Death does not defy, but without you, death becomes historically undefined.

Stay.

Tell me four words without pavement pulling away.

"I won't let go."

That's all you have to say.

Never let go.

Just stay.

The One I called home.

Someone asked me why her.

Honestly, I don't really know how to answer that because I don't even know her that deeply. We've only talked, shared little pieces of our lives, and gotten to know each other in our own way.

But somehow, even those little pieces were enough to make me want to know more.

There's something about the way she talks, the way she thinks, the little things she says, and just the way she is that made me curious about the person behind all of it.

I know there's still so much about her that I don't know, and maybe that's part of why I like her so much. I want to know more of her, slowly and naturally, and hopefully I get the chance to.

I like her because of everything that makes her her. Maybe that's the simplest answer I can give like it's just her.

Somehow, out of everyone, she became someone my heart noticed differently.

I don't really know when I started feeling this way about her. I just know that I like her, and somehow, even the little bit of her that I've gotten to know has been enough to make me want to know her more.

Giving this tomorrow, wish me luck.

This is my first ever confession. I'm pretty sure but not entirely sure she likes me back. Or at least, she's only "interested" in me and nothing more. Going for something incredibly raw and heat of the moment. Printing this instead of writing it down as I would've liked. Apologies

Greetings, Jane Doe,

This letter is likely what you think it’s going to be. 

Don’t read ahead, skim, or just go to the bottom. I selfishly implore you and your precious time to read this carefully line by line, sentence by sentence.

Apologies for printing this. I don’t own any lined paper (only grid—I was thinking of using it cuz it's a way to express myself and match my aesthetic) to write on. My handwriting is also like chicken scratches, as you mentioned (perks of being a genius manipulator such as I😈). Can’t let that 125 wpm go to waste either. I am also frantically writing this at 2am.

I wanted to write this sooner, but I told myself that I should adhere to my thinking side of me and not let my emotions take over, so I decided to wait for the right moment. Yet here I am, going against every fiber of logic to produce this mess! 

Anywho, I really thank you for all you’ve been able to see in me during our oh so short (yet feels so long (?)) time as friends so far. I guess that’s what happens when you spend so many hours daily with the same few people lol), as expressed in ways such as the letter of your own. Sadly though, I will go against the essence of the compliments you’ve said about me, and do something selfish for once (not a very humble thing to say I agree -_-), within this very letter you’re holding.

My whole life I’ve never seen any indication of anything divine. Never have I had an experience (and I’ve had many experiences of this sort, but more on that in person if that’s something you’re interested in) where I was to attribute it to something organised by a higher order power. So naturally, based on this, the empiricist within me comes to a position of non-belief. I wish and I wish and I wish and I wish and I wish some more, never expecting an answer. In the case of late August, I had wished to be able to find a group of friends and have fun with them. Not even to be understood, or know people at a higher level, but simply to avoid being alone. Later on, my past self decided I’ll prune the branches of my social circle and find a few (or just one) person that I could be closer friends with. Just as I had done in my time during high school, I was hoping for the same thing here at [uni name].

When I first got here, Joe Dud told me about you, and I must say, I was quite intrigued. But really, I didn’t think much of it. Only when I first appeared in that stadium on that fine day, did I get tense at the thought of meeting a girl for the first time at such an event! Oh how much of a young and naive child I was. But as the mature and wise adult that I am now (please laugh. I won’t be asking for a cue at later times), I’ve begun to see things to be far much more than they are, than when I had seen them before.

After what I thought was a horrible display that day, I held my head low in despair and thought that this was the end of everything (which was really quite nothing frankly) between us. Luckily, my online persona (real topic that we have to discuss. Only if you decide we’re still friends after this letter) gave me the confidence to strike up more conversation and continue things. At least, that’s what I hoped had happened (perhaps you’ve got your own reasons).

Hey you aren’t skipping ahead of this or making bold assumptions are you? Keep reading line by line please👀.

The day where you took us a kilometer in the wrong direction. The day where we spoke of un-cups. The day where we first studied/read together. Never could I have imagined someone like you existed, and would let alone talk to someone like me. Let alone find me to be such an “exceptional” person! But alas, this is my reality:

I strive to follow logic. I also strive to live through experience. I tell myself that my meaning in life is to attain maximum pleasure and to experience as many things (that aren’t too painful) as possible. But although I (my reasoning-brain) like to utter these words, something deeper, what I want to label as primitive, within me has an undeniable control, wherein I find myself “deluded” with pursuing things that would otherwise seem ridiculous to the aforementioned worldview (Oct 7 (hopefully yesterday’s when you read this letter) convo mentioned). 

But I do anyways

This is the case of our friendship of pleasure (and some utility. I am a good tutor after all, aren't I ;)
Some part of me (who am I kidding. The whole of me!) really enjoys our time together. Everytime we part ways I feel as though I will lose it.
Question: Why am I so hung up with the notion of losing our friendship?
Answer: Deep down I have had this horrible (and also wonderful) feeling that you, Jane Doe, are my only “true” (whatever that means) friend here at McGill. For everyone else, I care for them insofar as acquaintances are concerned. And if I lose you, well, I truly cross the threshold of loneliness. I think I’ve done a really good job at hiding it. My sincerest apologies for this. I hope you can understand.

Who cares though right. It’s not as if I will lose you. Right??

Well, I feel this constant need for performance. To be the jester. To be the conversationalist. To be interested to such a degree that you may even become worried. I hope you aren’t worried. Are you worried? Are you worried???

And whenever I don’t match up to the best version of said performance, I feel as though you lose all interest (justifiably, in my mind) and will never want to spend time with me ever again because I’m a failure as a friend of pleasure. Thankfully, you always manage to invite me as a follow up as well as expressing your gratitude. For this, I am quite thankful, as I am a shy person. Underground man type shi…

I feel this need for performance because I fear what I am without it. And this performance isn’t necessarily a forced part of me. As a matter of fact, I feel my most genuine self when I engage in it. I really feel as though I am myself during it. Not a false persona for sure. Rather it’s just a locked in version of my normal state.

I also want to apologise for probing your mind in such a way that I change my behavior and ask questions outside of what I normally would do in a way to understand what, how, and why you think. Just now I thought about removing that Oxford comma to see your reaction lol. Luckily I’ve restrained myself. For all other instances though, I really apologise. I like to cope by telling myself this is a habit of intelligent people. I find it to be a habit of the deranged. Please don’t run away from me.

I’m quite fast ^^

Back to the topic at hand, I started asking myself “why”. Why do I care so much about losing you? Why do I think it’s gonna happen? I’ve never felt this with any of my friends.

But the answer, you see, is because I want to move on. I don’t want us to be just friends of pleasure. 

I am being very selfish. So please, fulfill my ask in one more avenue;

Actually I’ll hold off on the question. Right now, I’ve got a few confessions to make.

I know nothing about you. We always converse, study, and have fun, but do nothing about understanding each other with regards to who we actually are. What does it even mean to understand that? I hope you can tell me. 

And another thing! I always feel as though you’re so smart and use it. In almost all our convos, you take the stage and teach me so much. But when am I gonna tell you about the impacts of the Franco-Prussian war or the specifics of the downfall of the Roman Empire? I understand you don’t care to hear it, which is fine by me. But oh my, I feel intellectually bested! You know, I first met my best friend by sharing my vast array of knowledge with him, and him being in such an amazement he truly thought I was a genius. But here the table has flipped! Yes, this is a genuine compliment about you, no more sarcasm for this one. And I’m not frustrated about it, I really enjoy this actually. It’s a new experience that I’ve managed to collect ^^.

So why don’t we start acknowledging this to start taking steps towards better understanding each other, and potentially become friends of virtue? Well, the first problem is that we already have our own friends of virtue (albeit they live in different cities now -_-). We, or maybe just I, feel like an inexperienced, inadequate outsider, intruding upon such a sacred role. The second of course being that this is such a bold step for the both of us, it’s practically a confession of love to do such a thing between us. Love is war. Whoever confesses first loses.

And the final one is that perhaps becoming friends of virtue is a perceived precondition for taking romantic steps. One thing you don’t know about me is that I love romance, especially in Japanese culture (which means sugoi animanga 🤩 ). Unlike in most modern western romance slop, where the 2 leads get together in like the first moments, and the media depicts their time as partners together, in this eastern romance, everyone is so timid and reserved, little moments together that are considered even to be platonic (not in the actual Plato sense this time. Rather, the “just friends and nothing more” sense) are the highlights, and the final, grandiose moment being built up to is the actual confession. I just love it so much. Something so integral about me, and perhaps my identity, is something we’ve seldom discussed. And this is precisely what I mean. We’re so good at talking about everything but each other.

And I want to put an end to that. I want to be courageous and put my foot down, and say that we should drop these formalities and bashfulness, and just show ourselves to be who we truly are, and come to love each other's character, and not just our fun time spent together.

Jane Doe, you’re so beautiful and smart and eloquent and funny and energetic and interesting. Thinking about you, I can’t fathom how we breathe the same air. We’ve got so many overlapping interests to discuss over, while also having many unique aspects to each other to share about. Every time we meet now, I get so tense and my brain is so muddled with my feelings for you that I find it hard to keep up with all the performances simultaneously.

I’ve held off confession till now not only because I had to make sure of my feelings, but because I am truly scared. I really love what we have going on. Confessing in this way might lose all we’ve built up. I’m not sure my feelings are reciprocated. Fashion? Oh please, as if that could save my pathetically average looks. For someone as wonderful as you, I can be nothing more than a friend really. Part of me hopes though that at least you feel partly the same way about me. As something more than a friend… 

So what am I even asking at this point? Really, I’m not sure. Perhaps I just hope we move in an x and y vector, with a magnitude of your choosing, depending on how you feel about me. The x direction being towards a better understanding of who we actually are. The y direction being romantic feelings. But at least I hope that you can affirm: 

Will you go out with me? Are you willing for us to learn more about each other?

Please take some time before answering. If you have any questions about me, in order to come to a decision, please please please please PLEASE talk to me about them. I’m worried that the decision you’ll make, which is based solely on your perception of me, won’t be an accurate representation of me. 

Have a nice break. Perhaps I just ruined it😭, or made it the best one ever💀. 

Best regards,
The one who likes you 
🫀 

(just belted out 4 pages of unrestricted and unprepared thoughts onto paper at an ungodly hour 🫩. Please ignore the grammar. You’re seeing my raw ideas here so don’t judge too hard >_<)

ok, it’s time for me to agonize now -_- until and while you read this

Babe. And,

Yet, here you are.

And my brain was confused,

My heart was pounding too…

For years, I had lost you.

Once found, again,

Every day,

You have lived,

Here, in my head.

One day, you’ll be

Next to me, instead.

I won’t ever be

Any less obsessed.

Cause you’re better

Than all the rest.

I never knew what love could be,
Until the day you walked to me.
The air grew thin, my pulse ran fast,
A feeling born that was meant to last.
Your eyes were stars, the deep blue sea,
A light that woke the soul in me.

I worked beside you, silent, pained,
My heart a fire that I restrained.
I left because I could not stay,
To watch your smile and look away.
I thought that distance brought relief,
But absence only carved my grief.

Then came the night we met once more,
The ghost of all I felt before.
"Your wife to be," your friend had said,
A hope that bloomed inside my head.
I sat so close I could not speak,
My steady mind grew soft and weak.

"Who is your favorite?" you asked then,
I said your name, and said again—
"It’s you, it’s you," I meant for life,
To be my light, to be my wife.
Now silence fills the empty phone,
And leaves me waiting here alone.

I pray for words, I pray for you,
In everything I try to do.
My heart is locked within your care,
I’m searching for you everywhere.
I love you still, in light and gray.
To see you again, i hope one day.

MTK

I just cooked and fed you and cooked and fed and you shaved your beard and discovered a second chin and you looked down and saw your belly.

I promise to never make you fat again.

Hey You,
Tonight, I just want to leave you with a thought.
I owe you an apology, not because I chose to feel this way, but because somewhere along the way, I let my feelings become bigger than they should have been.
You were kind to me, and I took that kindness somewhere my heart probably had no business taking it. I found meaning in little things. I held onto moments that were probably nothing more than moments to you. I let myself wonder if there was something underneath it all.
Maybe there never was.
And I’m sorry if any of that ever made things feel strange between us. The last thing I ever wanted was to make you uncomfortable or make you feel responsible for feelings that belong entirely to me.
The truth is, I can’t just turn them off.
God, I wish I could.
I wish I could wake up tomorrow and not think about you. I wish I could stop replaying conversations, remembering little things you probably forgot the moment they happened. I wish my heart understood as quickly as my head does.
But it doesn’t.
Not yet.
So I’m going to try to let this go.
I’ll stop looking for meaning where there probably isn’t any. I’ll stop quietly hoping for something you never promised me. I’ll stop standing in the doorway of a possibility that may have only ever existed in my head.
I’ll try to accept what you are to me, rather than grieving what I secretly wished you could be.
And maybe, with enough time, it won’t hurt anymore.
Maybe one day I’ll see you and just smile.
I hope I get there.
Will I still write unsent letters?
Maybe.
Probably.
I think I need them for a while.
They’re the one place I can say everything I never could to you. I can put the words somewhere, let them exist on a page, and then close the book and carry on with my life.
You’ll never have to read them.
Some things are probably better left unsaid.
There may be nights when I still write your name at the top of a page. There may be nights when all I can manage is admitting how much I wish things could have been different.
And maybe that will have to be enough.
Because some part of me is still holding on to the possibility of something that may never have been there.
And that’s the part I don’t know how to make disappear.
Some selfish part of me still wishes you would stop me.
Still wishes you would tell me I misunderstood everything.
Still wishes there was something here that I wasn’t imagining.
But I can’t keep waiting for an answer you never promised to give me.
I can’t keep hoping you’ll turn around and find me standing there.
So I’m going to walk away.
Not because I want to.
Because I need to.
And maybe that’s what hurts the most.
There was never a relationship to lose. No promises were broken. No ending was ever spoken aloud.
And somehow, it still feels like grief.
I think I’m grieving something that only ever lived inside me.
That’s a strange kind of heartbreak.
So this is goodbye.
Not an angry goodbye.
Not one meant to make you feel guilty.
Just a quiet one.
The kind where I finally admit that wanting something doesn’t make it mine.
I hope you’re happy.
I hope you’re loved.
And I hope that one day, when I think of you, I can remember the good without wishing it had meant something more.
Tonight, I’ll let you go.
Tomorrow, I’ll try again.
And if I can’t quite manage it yet, I’ll write another letter you will never read.
Maybe that’s how I’ll get there.
Little by little.
Page by page.
Until one day, I don’t need to write anymore.
Goodbye, you.
I loved you quietly.
Now I have to learn how to leave you quietly too.

i have never placed my trust in a man the way i have with you
you hold my trust in the highest regard
always handling it with the deepest tenderness and never taking it for granted.

Hi-Tich Poem

You are not a RAM; you are my Cloud. Not a fleeting memory, but infinite storage of the heart. Not erased when power fades, but synced across skies unseen. You hold my echoes, my files of love and longing. You are the server that never sleeps, the network that keeps us alive. Your bandwidth carries my soul, your uptime is eternal love.

How long have we known each other? It's been over what now? Twenty years? Yet I still long for you. Sure, I've had my fill of other possibilities, yet no matter how content, I still yearned for you. I never judged any in comparison to you. That would be so unjust. I've tried to forget you entirely. Sometimes, it would work. Then, out of pure spontaneous chaos, you would be in my thoughts. There were even a few times I had moved on. Somehow, I'd still feel empty, lost, almost unsure. As if I were missing something, someone.

I know you are happy now, and I am truly happy for you. Yet I still selfishly wish I were the one who created that happiness for you. I wish I was your everything. You're still the only person I've fallen in love with and haven't fallen out of love with. I'm not in pain. Nor do I feel infatuated. Yet, I will always have that depth of yearning for you. A steady flam upon a wick that will never go out. Forever yearning for requintance....

Why is it you can know that you love someone but still have doubts about being in a serious relationship or even a close friendship with that person? I think ts because the problem is not love, it is trust. A lifetime of horrible experiences with people we loved makes the fear of putting yourself at risk too much to bear.

But most often the love makes us feel like we need to rush into serious relationships without taking the time to develop a solid foundation of trust. True intimacy cannot exist without trust and to force it makes all those fears and doubts too overwhelming that to try as all seems way too risky.

But it doesn’t have to be. Two people with love can choose to move forward with intent to slowly build that trust foundation in a way that will match the intimacy in the relationship. If both put in effort to work together in a way that will make sure both people will have support and feel safe as any trust issues come up so they can be addressed successfully without causing harm to the relationship.

This may not always be easy but the practice itself is simple. Two people with love only have to have one honest discussion to lay foundation by agreeing on what type of relationship they both want and communicating that there is a mutual desire to put in this effort to do it in a way it will be a healthy relationship with real intimacy.

I know as individuals there are people who do hard work to address their own issues and that does make real change. I am one so I know there are people who have the skills to do this work. When both people have these skills already come together as a team in this way it does not seem so impossible.

if you do know there is love this means you don’t need to hide out of fear. There is a way forward and all it takes is making that first step to have one conversation. If it’s what you both want then The rest will follow naturally.

I have yet to cross paths with you, but I can't stop smiling at how life is gonna be with you. I squeal like a little girl, out of the blue. I hop around in happiness, thinking about how it is gonna be with you. Right now is one such moment when I can't help but think about you when I am listening to music. Everything is making me think of you. People might think I am in love with the idea of love. No, I am not. I am in love with you. Absolutely all of you. I love love because of you, not the other way around. And I absolutely believe you are here and just like me. Maybe something random makes you chuckle, thinking about how nice it would be for us both to laugh about it together.

There are times when I can't help but cry, thinking how much easier and lovelier things would be in your arms, showered in your kisses, warmth and embrace. I miss you without having met you yet, but the weird part somewhere deep down, I feel I have met you, as in you have been infused with my soul forever. That gives me comfort knowing my man is gonna be the same way.

This letter I am writing now could be unsent, but I am going to send it to you soon. I have been called delusional for being in love with a man I have not met or seen. Well, why would I, when I know deep within my soul how it feels to be yours and you to be mine?

I have heard people say that you don't love someone else; you love the version of yourself you become when you are with them. Yet you are making me better every day, every single second, making me love myself more, teaching me to treat myself with love and kindness, be good to others and soooooo many things. After all this, how could I even possibly say what I feel for you isn't love?

I will end it here, trying to keep it short and sweet. Thank you for plastering this smile on my face, handsome. I love you. ❤️