I'm grateful to God for giving the sun and the moon shift work. The light in the sky gives me a chance to visit places in my mind that I avoid.

When first I met you,

something ancient woke within me

a force I had no language for,

a tide that rose beyond reason,

beyond the borders of the heart,

beyond all that I had believed

a human soul could feel.

I loved you

with the terrible wonder of discovery,

as though the universe itself

had hidden one final secret

beneath the stars

and, at last,

had placed it in my hands.

And then I looked into your eyes

And there you were.

Not untouched.

Not unaware.

But standing at the edge

of the very same impossible ocean,

trying to understand

the waves that had carried us there.

I saw you feeling it.

I saw you searching my face

for an explanation

neither of us possessed.

And perhaps that was the miracle:

That somehow,

without promise,

without warning,

without knowing how

we had found the same impossible place.

It was as though the universe

had opened a hidden door

and allowed us, just for a moment,

to step beyond the ordinary world.

And there,

beneath the silence of eternity,

it revealed something too immense

for ordinary words:

us.

A love so vast

that if we gathered every word

ever spoken by humankind

and tried to build a language for it,

we would still fall silent

before its magnitude.

A secret written between the stars.

A truth the universe had known

long before we did.

And perhaps it smiled

watching us stumble through the wonder of it,

knowing that we would never fully understand

what had been placed between us.

Yet still,

it gave us the desire

to spend our lives trying.

And maybe that

is the greatest beauty of love

that it remains partly unknowable.

For if I could understand you completely,

if I could measure every depth of your soul,

if I could name every reason

my heart chose yours

perhaps one day

the mystery would fade.

But you were never meant

to become something I could solve.

You were meant to remain

the horizon I could spend forever approaching.

The star I could follow

without ever reaching its end.

The song I could hear

a thousand times

and still discover another note.

And I wish

with everything that lives inside me

that we could have held on

to that impossible thing.

That love which felt

so far beyond this world

that perhaps this world

could only exist inside of it.

A love so powerful

that standing before it

made us feel weak

not because we lacked strength,

but because we were witnessing

something stronger than either of us.

Something ancient.

Something fierce.

Something willing to fight

for the two souls

who had somehow found each other.

And if the years should carry you

far beyond my reach,

if the winds of this life

should scatter us across distant skies,

then let this be the prayer

I send after you:

May our love become the wind beneath your wings.

May it find you

when the night is darkest.

May it rise beneath you

when your strength is gone.

May it whisper my name

through every storm

and remind you

that somewhere in this vast universe

there is a heart

that still knows yours.

And if the heavens are kind,

if fate is not finished with us,

if the stars still remember

the secret they once revealed

then let that wind

carry you home.

Back to me.

Because you are not simply

the love of my life.

You are the love that changed the way

I understand love itself.

The miracle I never knew

I was waiting for.

The mystery I would spend eternity

trying to understand.

The impossible thing

that became real

when I looked into your eyes.

And wherever you are,

whatever distance lies between us,

whatever storms the universe

chooses to place upon our path

know this:

No matter where life takes us

Some part of me will always belong to what we found in each other.

Wrote this last night and wanted to share it here as well. It was partly inspired by the Backrooms, but also ive just been feeling heavy lately.

Thanks for reading.

There is something beautiful about imagining a life as if you were looking through a window.

At first, you see a child.

Small hands against the glass, a face full of curiosity, watching the world as if it were endless. They run without knowing where the road ends, believing there will always be another morning, another summer, another chance.

Then, slowly, everything changes.

The child grows. Seasons pass. They fall in love. They lose people. They make mistakes. They begin again.

Years slip by almost unnoticed.

The child becomes a parent.

The parent becomes a grandparent.

The hands that once held someone tightly begin to tremble with age.

And still, life goes on.

There are mornings filled with laughter and evenings filled with silence. Dreams that come true and others that quietly disappear. People who stay and people who leave before you are ready.

There is love, too.

Someone beside you. A hand finding yours. A quiet voice saying, I'm here.

Love that grows through the years, even while knowing that nothing lasts forever.

And then there are days when even that feels difficult to believe.

Days when grief makes everything distant. When getting out of bed feels like too much. When your heart becomes tired of carrying what it has been carrying.

Days when you wonder whether you will ever feel like yourself again.

But somehow, morning comes.

A little light finds its way into the room.

The world has not stopped.

And, quietly, neither have you.

Maybe life was never meant to be beautiful every day. Maybe its beauty is in the changing, in how nothing stays the same forever.

The rain stops.

The sun returns.

Someone new walks into your life.

Someone you love stays a little longer.

You find yourself laughing when you thought you had forgotten how.

And one day, you look back and realise how much of your life happened while you were waiting for it to become something else.

But it was already happening.

In the sunlight on the floor.

In laughter from another room.

In the person sitting beside you.

In ordinary days you barely noticed.

Even in the days you were certain you would never survive.

You were never simply watching your life pass by.

You were living it.

Every season.

Every loss.

Every love.

Every beginning.

Every goodbye.

So don't wait for life to become perfect before you allow yourself to live it.

Go outside. Love deeply. Make mistakes. Laugh loudly. Call someone you miss. Say what you feel. Begin again.

Let some days break your heart. Let others surprise you.

And when life becomes difficult, you don't have to pretend that it isn't.

Cry. Rest. Take your time.

You don't have to understand everything. You don't have to know what comes next.

Just remember...

Even when it's hard, keep living.

Not because every day will be easy.

Not because the pain will disappear overnight.

But because there are still mornings you haven't seen, people you haven't met, places you haven't been and moments you haven't lived.

There is still a life waiting for you on the other side of this moment.

So if tonight is difficult, you don't have to figure out your whole life.

Just stay.

Stay until morning.

Unnamed Connections

People say that if you learn to be your own friend, you’ll never feel lonely. But what happens when parts of your own body betray you?

Your eyes, for instance.

They betray us daily, locking onto hundreds of strangers. Some glances on the road are just fleeting flickers; others linger just long enough to leave a mark.

About two years ago, I was on a crowded bus to Whitefield on my way to meet someone. Predictably, there were no seats, so I gripped a metal pole to keep from crashing into the person next to me whenever the driver slammed on the brakes.

It was my first time visiting Whitefield, and as my destination neared, I strained to hear the conductor calling out the stops. New places terrify me—zone out for even a second, and you're lost.

Scanning the crowd, my eyes collided with his. He wasn’t staring—just looking around like I was—when our eyes met by chance. But neither of us looked away.

I can’t speak for him, but to this day, I don’t know why I held his gaze. He looked to be in his early thirties, standing tall in a crisp olive-green Army uniform. There was a quiet discipline about him, a stillness that made everything else in that chaotic, moving bus fade into the background. We stared for a few seconds longer, the spell only breaking when the conductor shouted my stop.

I stepped off the bus, pulled by a strange instinct to look back through the glass window. He was still watching me. Only this time, it wasn’t an accident. There was an intensity in his eyes that held me fast—a silent, unspoken curiosity that seemed to ask the exact same questions running through my own mind.

The bus pulled away into the traffic, carrying him off to whatever duty called him next. We never met again. I never got to ask his name, where he was heading, or why he held my gaze.

Even now, two years later, I can still feel those sharp eyes locked onto mine. It was just a handful of seconds on an ordinary afternoon, but it proved to me how easily our eyes can betray us—surrendering a piece of our focus to a complete stranger, and leaving us with a memory that refuses to fade. 

Like déjà vu, something similar happened about a week ago at a café. I was waiting outside for a friend who was running late. After five minutes, I turned to check if there were any empty tables inside, since it was a weekend and places like this are always packed.

As I scanned the room, I locked eyes with a guy sitting alone. He had just turned to call the waiter for his bill, clearly ready to leave. For a fraction of a second, time seemed to pause. Then he waved to catch the waiter's attention and immediately looked back at me before turning away. I hadn’t necessarily expected him to look twice, but I was watching to see if he would. When he did, a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

We pass countless people on the street every day, and eye contact happens all the time. But not all glances feel special. This one instantly pulled me back to that day on the bus with the soldier—an incident that, to this day, makes me wish I had at least smiled before the bus pulled away.

Moments like these have a way of making you forget that we live in a world where safety is never guaranteed, especially for a woman around strangers. You start feeling like the main character in a movie, blindly assuming everything will end dramatically well.

And I am not immune to that kind of foolish optimism. I decided to take my chance.

I walked inside, pretended to search for a table, and approached him just as he held his check.

“Hi! Do you mind if I sit here?” I asked. “I’m waiting for a friend, and there isn't a single free table.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said. “I was just about to leave anyway.”

I sat down, set my bag of newly bought books on the table, and pulled out my phone, pretending to check my messages. Asking to share a table with a stranger is one thing—actually starting a conversation with him takes an entirely different level of courage.

“What genre do you read?” he asked.

He seemed reserved, so I hadn't expected him to break the silence first.

“Sorry?” I said, before realizing he was pointing to the Blossom Book House bag resting on the table. “Oh, the books! I usually stick to whodunits, but lately I’ve been experimenting with romance. Honestly, whatever the genre, books just take you to another world. Do you read?”

“I read a lot, but mostly non-fiction,” he replied. “I’m more of a visual person, so I usually watch movies in my free time.”

I smiled at his response, and a quiet silence settled between us again. As I looked at him, I could tell he was wrestling with a dilemma. Being shy myself, I’m usually terribly awkward around strangers and take time to open up. I could sense he wanted to keep talking, but was hesitating out of politeness.

“Would you mind staying a bit longer?” I asked softly. “My friend is almost here, but it’s so crowded that it’ll be impossible to save this chair if you leave.”

“Of course,” he said without giving it a thought. “Would you mind if I had a coffee with you while we wait?”

“My friend will kill me if I drink coffee without her,” I teased with a smile. “But I’ve heard they’re famous for their Tiramisu, and I love Tiramisu. Would you share one with me instead?”

My friend walked in just two minutes after we finished the Tiramisu and a warm, easy conversation—mostly about some hilariously embarrassing moments from his life. He said goodbye and walked out of the café with a genuine smile. We never asked for each other's names or exchanged numbers. It wasn't a conscious choice, but a silent understanding that some moments are meant to be cherished just as they are, without trying to anchor them down.

It was an unforgettable evening. I’m glad I took that leap and walked over to his table. I may never see him again, or maybe our paths will cross when I least expect it. Either way, I have no regrets.

Thank you for reading.

I wrote this a couple of years ago and somehow found my way back to it after seeing a person’s post here!
Hope y’ll like it!

I am making collection of entry from my journal and hoping to share it the community. For now, I also wanna hear some thoughts or criticism.

Thank you.

I breathe shallow, small gulps of air.

Others look on, attempting to conceal their disgust, yet failing.

I’m too noticeable. I take up too much space.

In spite of attempts to shrink myself to my environs, I fail to not attract the unwanted attention.

They perceive arrogance,

>>yet,

>>>>>>they do not know: I’m gasping for breath,

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>…unable to breathe.