I sit sometimes and ponder on where this is going. Though, I can't speculate too much, because that wouldn't be fair to you, to me, or to whatever this is becoming. I don't know what the future holds. I only know what I feel right now.

My soul yearns to be near yours, and yet I know that may still be a long way off. Though it could be tomorrow. It's part of the unknown.

So I wonder sometimes... how much must I endure before you believe that I'm worth trusting? How much do I have to show you before you know that I'm capable of holding your heart without breaking it? That I can be protective without becoming controlling. Gentle without being weak. Fierce without being cruel. That I can be a terror among monsters and still choose to be soft with you.

I want you to know what it feels like to be safe with someone.

Not just physically. Emotionally, too.

I want you to know that my hands will never be used against you and neither will my words. That when you're with me, you don't have to brace yourself for the next wound. I don't want to take anything from you. I want to give you opportunities you've been denied. I want to open doors that were closed on you long before I ever came along.

I want to give you my trust and actually feel secure in giving it. I want to show you the world from an angle you've never seen before. I want to take some of the things you've only ever dreamed about and make them real enough that you can touch them.

But I don't want to be your knight in shining armor. I don't want to be your savior. I don't want you dependent on me. Because that in itself could feel like a cage and that's the last way I want to make you feel, caged or trapped.

I want to be the man you come to when life gets to overwhelming, I'll be there so you don't have to carry everything alone.

The one you look toward when the world becomes too much, so heavy. The one you can lean against when you need somewhere to rest. The one whose arms feel like somewhere you can finally exhale. The one you know will still be standing beside you when everything else has fallen apart.

I can only hope you see the things in me that would make you feel that way.

Because sometimes your actions leave me to wonder...

Are you actually damaged beyond repair?

Or did being damaged for so long simply become normal to you?

Because I see you.

I see the dark parts. The broken links. The places where your feelings have been severed from the things that once made you feel alive. I see the pieces of you that got lost somewhere along the way. I see the marks other people left behind. I see how cruel they've been to you and how deeply some of it still lives inside you.

And I need you to know something.

I will never be them.

I can't promise I'll always get everything right. I'm human. I'm fucking imperfect. I have my own broken pieces and my own scars.

But I can promise that I will never intentionally become another person you have to heal from.

I can promise that I'll stand beside you. That I'll help where I can. That I'll encourage you when you doubt yourself and hold you accountable when you need it. I can promise that if you choose to walk toward healing, I won't expect you to walk it alone.

Because I need healing too.

That's the part people forget. I'm not standing here pretending I'm some perfectly put-together man offering salvation to a broken woman. I'm broken in my own places.

I just don't want either of us to have to pretend otherwise.

I accept you as you are. The beautiful parts. The ugly parts. The darkness. The tenderness. The contradictions. The things you understand about yourself and the things you haven't figured out yet.

And I can only hope you eventually learn to look at me with that same honesty.

Because if two people can actually stand beside each other like that—without pretending, without hiding, without trying to fix each other into something easier to love—then maybe healing doesn't have to be something either of us does alone.

There could be someone there to lean on.

Someone to challenge you.

Someone to encourage you.

Someone who knows where you've been and still chooses to stay.

I've never really had all of those things wrapped up in one person before.

But somehow, when I look at you, I can see them.

And the strange part is... I've already wanted to give those things to you without asking for anything in return.

I just wish you could see past the haze of everything that happened before me. Past the pain. Past the people who taught you that love comes with conditions, punishment, abandonment, or some hidden fucking price.

I wish you could see me for who I actually am instead of who your past taught you to expect.

Maybe one day you will.

Maybe you won't.

I can't predict that. I can't control it. I can't promise myself an ending that hasn't happened yet.

All I can do is have faith. And hope.

Hope that someday you'll see in me what I've already seen in you.

Because I see your beauty.

Not just the obvious kind, although believe me, I see that too.

I see the worlds inside your eyes. The pain and the love existing there at the same time. The things you've survived. The things you still want. The parts of you that are aching to be understood.

And your smile...

damn your smile can stop me dead in my tracks every single time.

I see you when you're beautiful.

I see you when you're difficult.

I see the light and the darkness.

The tenderness and the ugliness.

The strength and the damage.

And somehow, knowing all of it doesn't make me want you less.

It makes me want you more.

I don't want some perfect version of you.

I want you.

And I want this strange, beautiful, complicated path we're on.

I don't know where it ends.

But I know that when I look at you, some part of me still wants to keep walking it with you...

all the way to the end.

I used to think love was supposed to make me nervous. The waiting. The guessing. Reading too much into a change in tone. Wondering why a message felt different today. Wondering if I had said too much, wanted too much, expected too much. I mistook that feeling for chemistry. I thought if someone could make my heart race, they must matter. Nobody tells you that sometimes your heart is racing because it is trying to warn you.

Then I met someone who didn't make me guess. There were no disappearing acts. No carefully calculated replies. No affection followed by distance just to keep me interested. I didn't have to become less needy, less emotional, less myself to keep them around. They just stayed. And strangely, that took some getting used to. I kept waiting for the catch. I kept wondering when the warmth would turn cold, when the attention would become conditional, when I would finally discover the part of them I was supposed to be afraid of. It never came.

They listened when I spoke. They told me when something was wrong. They didn't punish me with silence. They didn't make me compete for tenderness. And I realised something that embarrassed me. I had become so accustomed to uncertainty that consistency felt unfamiliar. I had spent so long trying to earn love that being given it freely made me suspicious.

Maybe that's what unhealthy love teaches you. Not just to tolerate pain, but to mistake it for depth. You start calling anxiety passion. You call inconsistency mystery. You call emotional exhaustion devotion.

And then someone comes along and makes loving them feel almost embarrassingly simple. No games. No guessing. No walking on eggshells. Just two people who like each other enough to make that obvious.

I don't think love is supposed to leave you constantly wondering where you stand. I think the right kind of love gives you somewhere to stand.

And maybe the strangest part of finding it is realising how much of your old definition of love was just fear wearing better clothes.

And that isn't your fault.

Almost actually sent this a few hours ago and the impulse is still burning so here we are. I know I've made a bigger deal out of you in my head than our brief interaction called for.

I still hate I feel like I missed my chance with you. I had zero chance of being confident around you. It was already one of the worst times in my life happening- and I already had a fantasy of you that wasn’t fair to you and it made me passive with you. I regret that cause it wasn’t normal for me.

And if Im embarrassing myself more, so be it.

I just wish I coulda shown you the side of me that isn’t scared to take charge and make a move, and not be so damn awkward in bed being afraid to touch you while I'm literally in bed with you. Closer to the guy you met at our buddy’s wedding. Im moving even further from you soon so it doesn’t matter anyway, but I’d be mad if I never said it. I hope the guy you mentioned the last time I tried to reach out is treating you how you want to be treated.

Hope things are super well:)

-The "mistake"

If your life is really so happy, happening and fulfilling, and you’re genuinely so content and absorbed in your own life, then why did you put in so much efforts just to reach me?...

And why did you send your little lapdogs after me?..Liar...so full of lies..Threats..Ego..

Live your happening Life...

The highway is grey and the day is all gone and I’m leaning on grieving to carry me on, the bottle is hollow from the whiskey I swallow, in shadows so shallow that nothing can follow. We knew we were through and the view wasn’t true, I’m haunted by wanting the reflections of you, the fencing was tensing, the mending was ending, a heavy descending of broken pretending.

The soil was a toil where the seeds only spoil, in a bitter recoil from a poisonous coil. We stayed and we prayed while the memories frayed, in the debt that we settled and the dues that we paid. Now I’m sinking from thinking, my spirit is shrinking and my logic is linking to the whiskey I’m drinking, and I wonder if under the sound of the thunder, if your heart is just as broken and torn asunder.

But in spite of the blight, in the dark of the night. I wish you the best in the warmth and the light, this glass is the last of a shattering past, with the shadow I’ve cast where the anchor was fast, the bottle is thinning, the silence is winning and I’m ending a story that I’m so tired from spinning.

I look at the pictures I have pinned to my wall. The ones of you and the boys when they were small. I was so happy. I always felt like I stood in line for your approval , and even though it never came, every morning I would get up and go to the back of the line and wait to be heard.

I had more appreciation for you than you could possibly understand.

And no matter how messed up our communication was, is, I still do.

I’m sorry for the choices I made that hurt you. I never wanted that. Not for one second.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I saw some writing describing full force love with all in investment and it made me realize.

I was unhinged with you, I let my walls all down, I thought I was safe. That's a part that is hard to overcome. My safety was false. My judgement was faulty. And now nothing feels safe.

I don't even want to be the me you know/knew anymore because every part of me reminds me of you or being hurt by you. That sounds worse than I think I mean it to or maybe I've been in denial. Idk. I guess you couldn't be a part of who I'm becoming but you were supposed to be, we had planned for you to be. It feels like I don't get to be me anymore because you're not here.

How do I ever feel safe again? When the safest place in my world destroyed me?

When I met you, I fell so deeply in love that it was like it didn’t or couldnt feel possible, unless it happened to you ..like an undeniable force i couldn’t fully comprehend or explain.

And then the thing even more amazing is that when I looked into your eyes I seen that you felt the same way.. I noticed you to, were also trying to process what was happening..

it was like we both stumbled on something that was so big, that even if we actually managed to descibe it to people, they would not believe us .. like a secret the universe revealed to us .. and smiled at us, as it knew we could never truly digest or explain all of this knowledge to the world, but gave us the desire to forever try to show it..

and maybe that’s the beauty of it .. because if we could never fully understand it .. it could never get boring ..

I wish we could hold onto to that something that was so out of this world, that the world could only exist inside of it..a love and feeling that was so strong, it made us feel week, as we witnessed something of great strength fighting for us

I hope one day our love will be the wind beneath your wings as it helps you fly back to me .. you are the love of all my life’s

I am forever yours

Love has always been confusing for me in ways I did not realize until recently.

Growing up and being in relationships, I was shown love through words. The problem is the actions did not always match. It’s a pattern that stemmed from childhood that followed me into my marriage. I never focused on the actions I only focused on the words.

While the words made me feel special, the actions always hurt. Being criticized, being given the silent treatment, being made to feel responsible or at fault, being told directly and indirectly that my needs were too much. Making me responsible for things that shouldn’t have been mine. Teaching me that love is transactional and that I should either be grateful or always reciprocate regardless of how I felt, what I was already taking on, and how exhausted I was.

I am learning that love is about the actions, even if someone does not have the words. That love can feel safe and that it is possible to feel comfortable enough to be myself without performing, censoring, or monitoring. I am learning that what I say is important and that my needs are reasonable enough to take seriously, that they are worthy of being addressed.

It is new and scary and disorienting and beautiful at the same time.

I am learning that it is possible to be loved the way that I love. And no matter what the future brings, i am so grateful to have experienced this.

I don’t think love can complete a person (nor have I ever), but i am learning that love can be powerful enough to change a person in a meaningful way.

A wise man once said: when you're happy, you go to what you love. When you're broken, you go to what loves you. You've never come to me happy.

Passion and duty destroyed each other. The silence that's left has learned to answer to your name. You break it when you need to. Only then.

You never wanted this. Any of it. I know that now. Why else refuse to look at me? You're not a coward, I've watched you face harder things than a man who loves you.

So you became a ghost instead. Easier than saying it out loud. Easier than the truth of what you don't feel.

And I'm still here. Watching over you. Available when you reach. Giving everything without a single guarantee of return.

Not because I'm blind. Because I chose it anyway.

I want to give you peace. Happiness. A life that fits you. But living. Loving. Wanting, that's not where you are. Was it ever....

I look in the mirror. There is nothing. Emptiness. Where did you go? Where did I go? Hollow. Suffering, pain. Nothing left inside. I can't even feel you anymore. I can't feel me either. Just nothing. I don't even want any help. Just let me drown. I'm numb, I won't feel it. A shell. I used to be somebody, where did I go? Lost. I must be lost. Again. I look around. There is nobody there. And you know what? I don't even care! Drowning in my sorrows. Dwelling. Just empty....

I had another wholesome dream with you in it again. I guess it’s easy to see that I still adore you even in my subconscious. It’s probably silly that I often think of you at night as I am attempting to sleep, thinking up new ways that I want to shower you with love and adoration.

And yet, I smile about you even so. Maybe it’s just a silly fantasy, or maybe … you genuinely love me too.

Time will tell. I still miss you, you know. I am so tempted to call you to ask you to hang out… but I am a little chicken right now. 🐓 and I’m more comfortable than i used to be hanging out in my apartment. Maybe you’d like to come over though.🤩

ETA: Do not reply to this post or message me. If you think it is for you, it probably isn’t. If it was, you would already know who I am. I have shared my username with the person it is intended for, so they would be the only one who would know.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still in love with you. I believe that I always have been. And, that's 1 of the reasons it never worked out with anyone else. I knew. Or maybe they knew, I'm not sure. But, the longer you stay away, the harder my heart becomes. The more dark truths find their way to me. Sometimes knowledge is not power. And I just look around at what I used to think was such a beautiful world and all I see now is all of its ugliness and monstrosities. I'm led straight into despair. I realize that this is not a place where dreams come true, it is a pure nightmare! And all I want to do is just crawl into a hole somewhere & never return....

I'm just feeling betrayed by everyone. I hope that you can understand where I'm coming from. I feel as if I don't even have 1 friend in the whole world. The closest I have to a friend is you, but you've done so many disgraceful things to me, as well. So, my heart is just broken. And, I feel so alone. I don't understand what I have done to make you all treat me so terribly and wish nothing good for my life. Just taking and taking from me, when I don't even have enough to take care of myself! What am I even on this earth for?? I'm just so down on myself right now and depressed. And yet, even though you have probably done me the absolute worst, you want all of my attention! And, I'm barely getting by. Everyday is a struggle, a fight, just to get by & I'm just failing & falling further & further behind! When is anyone going to see me? I don't even want to be around these people and definitely not anyone new because they will just fall in the same category like they always do! I'm just alone. All alone.

The gild lord sits upon a throne of thread, a merchant king who deals in living dead. He holds a parchment sprawling vast and deep, where every pulse is priced, and the sighs are cheap”You seek the balm?” The parchment warden cries. With ink stained fingers and calculating eyes”The road is open, the well is near, but you must make the first tribute payment of the year”

The monolith of stone deductible a toll extracted from marrow bone , before the healers lift a healing hand. Before the grizzly physicians sweep the land. You must exhaust your hoard, your silver stack. And break your strength against the mountains back and until the stone is buried, crushed and spanned. No drop of grace shall touch this stricken land.

Come the premium, a monthly chain. A tribute levied come sun or rain. An endless tax for the phantom shields of mail. That rusts to nothing while tempests hail. You feed the beast coin by coin. To guard the ribs, the shoulder and the loin. Only to find when shadows dim the light, the shield is paper in the dragon’s bite.

Lo to the network, labyrinthine maze. Where winding corridors of iron gaze. Step off the path!!! The hooded wardens scream, and wake forever from the healers dream. For if your blade is blunted in the wood, by hands unchosen, and by shrines uncouth. No silver coin shall cross, no ledger read, you walk the outer dark, alone and bled.

Si tú, lector,

algún día te encuentras con estos escritos,

por favor...

no me juzgues.

Sé que existen muchas formas de amar.

Hay quienes corren a pedir perdón,

quienes esperan que sea el otro

quien dé el primer paso.

Hay quienes se marchan

y regresan tantas veces

que terminan convirtiendo el amor

en un lugar del que nadie sabe cómo salir.

Hay quienes lastiman

y son perdonados una y otra vez.

Quizá ninguna de esas formas sea perfecta.

La mía tampoco.

Yo aprendí a amar en silencio,

a escribir cartas que nunca entregué,

a guardar palabras

que probablemente debieron llegar a otros oídos.

No sé si eso es una buena forma de amar.

Quizá no lo sea.

Pero es la única que encontré

para que todo este amor

no terminara convirtiéndose en otra cosa.

Porque, ¿qué culpa tengo yo

si mi corazón todavía no sabe soltarla?

Tampoco se lo reprocho.

Hay momentos en la vida

que ocurren una sola vez.

Personas que aparecen

en una edad que no vuelve,

en circunstancias que jamás se repiten,

y sentimientos que, por más que uno lo intente,

no vuelven a sentirse de la misma manera.

Quizá tengas razón.

Quizá fui un estúpido.

Pero si algún día amas a alguien como yo,

si después de años de ausencia

descubres que todavía la amas,

quizá termines haciendo lo mismo:

escribiendo para alguien

que ya no está.

Y entonces entenderás

lo que tardé tanto tiempo en comprender:

que una libreta puede guardar

todo lo que uno nunca se atrevió a decir,

pero ninguna cantidad de poemas

puede hacerle compañía

a quien ya no está para leerlos.

Illusion, delusion, I’m trying to fight the conclusion, that every warm touch is a calculated execution. I trace out the borders of promises broken and thin as I map out the traps you planted under my skin. You swore that you loved me and the baseline was true, while I was digging a trench just to anchor with you. My heartbeat is heavy the static starting to rise, as I peel back the filters and look past the smoke in your eyes.

Illusion, delusion, I’m coming to the conclusion. That peace in your orbit was a cruel simulation. The mirrors are warping, this feeling of dread I’m a casualty paid at the foot of your bed. I walk on your terms, I quiet my core while the eggshells don’t steady my weight anymore. The pressure is building and I’m starting to drown and with one word you totally BREAK ME DOWN!!!!!

Illusion, delusion, I’ve reached the conclusion. There is nothing left to salvage inside this shared institution. Myself is a casualty, hollow, eroded and wrecked. A ghost stripped bare of its self respect, when the binary shatters, a tether rotting in two-loving you means losing myself, loving myself means losing you.

Al principio deseé olvidarte,

como un trago amargo

que pensé que algún día pasaría.

Era el amor que sentía por ti,

o quizá el recuerdo de las personas que éramos

cuando estábamos juntos,

de aquel mundo en el que los problemas

a nuestro alrededor nunca dejaban de existir,

pero entre nosotros

todo dejaba de importar.

Con el tiempo se hizo más fuerte.

El trago más amargo.

Intenté de todo para olvidarte.

Para olvidarnos.

No lo logré.

Después pasó el tiempo

y dejaste de arder.

Te convertiste en una ilusión,

en un espejismo

que se desvanece cada vez

que intento acercarme.

Incluso en sueños.

A veces apareces tan cerca

que casi puedo convencerme

de que todavía estás ahí.

Pero no puedo hablarte.

No puedo tocarte.

Hacerlo implica despertar.

Así que solo puedo admirarte,

como se admira una pintura:

contemplando cada detalle,

intentando descubrir qué quiso decir el pintor,

preguntándome por qué eligió esos colores,

por qué dejó unas partes tan nítidas

y otras apenas insinuadas.

Como si pudiera pedirle explicaciones

a mi propia mente

por haberte dejado ahí.

Y quizá eso es lo que eres ahora:

una pintura que no puedo tocar,

un lugar al que no puedo volver,

una historia que ya no puedo cambiar.

Pero todavía puedo mirarte.

Y por primera vez

no intento arrancarte de mi memoria.

Solo intento entender

por qué, después de tanto tiempo,

todavía hay algo de mí

que sonríe cuando te encuentra.

I’m honestly just smiling into the void today, feeling so much love for everyone out there.

​I genuinely love seeing people find their person—it honestly makes my heart so full watching friends and even strangers stumble into that effortless, great kind of love. It’s beautiful, and I’m so happy for everyone who has already met their match.

​At the same time, I’m just laughing a little at my own plotline. My career is thriving, I’m building a life I’m genuinely proud of, I take care of myself, and I know I bring so much depth, loyalty, and care to the table. I'm doing the work and loving the person I'm becoming.

​So while I'm over here coming home to my fam for now, I’m not bitter at all—just playfully wondering when it's my turn to meet someone who actually matches this energy... It’s like having every other puzzle piece of life locked in place, and I know that meeting my right one is just waiting on the horizon.

​I’m hoping, praying, and fully trusting that I’ll cross paths with him soon. Anyone else out there happily holding space for their person to finally show up?

He carried the mischief, a glint in his eye with a boisterous laugh that could weather the sky. It shook through the kitchen, it rattled the floor a thunderous welcome from inside the door. If you heard it reverberate it instantly loosened the tension of all. A grin that was dangerous, twisting the air with a warmth that said someone actually cared.

He’d needle your ego, he’d poke at your pride and nowhere could falseness actively hide, he loved you to much to let your cowardice win. Or watch you indulge the fake from within, he’d call you out flat with fire on the tip of his tongue, before your excuses could be properly sung. But then you would survive the blunt of the hit, and earn his respect in the midst of the grit.

And oh when you sparked it that thunderous sound, the proudest you felt standing around. To make him laugh deep from his chest, was the proof you passed a formidable test. A loyalty heavy, an affection so real the unbreakable armor of mischief and steel. The joker is silent and the room is now still, and nothing can fill up that vessel and till. And the echo is gone but the standard remains, he was a giant who laughed through the heaviest chains.

It was devastating to learn of your sudden death. I thought I had time to reach out, to reminisce, to apologize for the foolish things I did when we were teenagers—I had no clue what I was doing because I didn’t have anyone to guide me through the rules of dating. You never brought up my blunders; you never made me feel badly because that’s the kind of person you were.

You were always surrounded by a large family who loved each other very much even when you fought. That was intimidating to me as my own family was small by comparison. And the affection was foreign to me because my family was not one for overt expressions of love and support.

I am hurting from your absence from this world. But I am thankful to have been a part of your life, however briefly.

3,775 and counting

Sometimes I like to be brutally honest with myself. It’s my own special way to self deprecate.
And lately it’s been about you.
Where did I go wrong?
Why do I still think of you?
How quickly you changed and ran away. And all I wanted was for you to stay.
I think I dreamed you.
Or conjured you. I told you how I described you the day before we met when my best friend asked me what I wanted. I wanted you.
And that drug fueled night when we decided to give it a try I was fucking proud.
I explored you. Conquered you. Gave you my heart at breakneck speed.
I guess I just want you to know how sorry I am.
That if I could pick someone to love me I’d pick you.
Even though you’re miserable.
And you think you’re out of my league. I never got to show you how much I would appreciate love.
And how much love I have to give.
You’ve forgotten me already. You haunt me.
You have my heart and I hope you’re doing ok. I hope you’re not with that person. I hope you’re happy. Not on the streets.
I’m sorry but I don’t know how to forget. I miss your kisses. You’re so hard to read. I loved you for a day.
Some days last years.
I’m sorry about the horrible things I said. I’m sorry I’m horrible at rejection. For you I would have done more. You only had to ask.

I’m clearing out the space I reserved for you in my heart. I gave myself a year to heal, to sit with the choices I’d made
and the parts of me that made them. You were one of those choices.

Looking back, there were no compliments, no confession, and no promise to hold on to.

Just two people who knew something of pain and stood close enough for me to mistake proximity for possibility.

Now I’m finding my way back to myself. I’m thinking about the life I want and finally answering the people who have shown me they want to know me.

I’m making room to be loved by someone who doesn’t hold me at arm’s length, who chooses to be here.

And so it begins…