Hi, I’ve gone back and forth about writing this, but my heart keeps nudging me, so here I am. I don’t know when it started,maybe it was something small,All I know is that whenever you’re around, I feel something within me. You cross my mind more often than I’d like to admit, and somehow, that always makes me smile. I’m not writing this with expectations or pressure. I just wanted you to know that you’re special to me, and that getting to know you even in small moments means more than you probably realize. Whatever this is or becomes, I’m grateful for the feeling.

Sometimes I wonder why the universe let me meet you at all. Why it gave me the chance to feel your presence, to know you, understand you, to fall for you, even when I was destined to lose you. How can the universe be so cruel? Why would it give me access to unrequited feelings, let my heart write chapters for someone who was never meant to stay? Why would it teach my soul a language you never tried to learn? Some days it feels like the universe wasn’t giving me a gift, but a lesson wrapped in longing. And maybe that’s the cruelest part, that love could feel so real even when it was never truly mine. I still replay our moments, wondering if any of them meant something to you. I still carry your name like a whisper between my ribs. But I’ve learned this truth, slowly and painfully: not everything that feels right is meant to last. Some people come into our lives not to stay, but to break us open, to reveal wounds we didn’t know existed, and force us to grow in places we never knew were hurting. And maybe that, too, is a kind of love, even if it was never meant to be kept.

A Yearning Love When some musics play, I think of you. I think of the times nothing mattered except you. I think of the times my love was so pure and young for you. My lips knew no other names except yours. My heart yearned for only you. My eyes saw your imperfections as perfect. You were perfect for me. Your voice was all that mattered. Dear, I miss you so much. I miss us. But I know it’s too late. I still wear your clothes, and those times I wear them, I can’t seem to get your thought out of my head. You were my first love. My first kiss. You were my first man. I doubt if I can forget you… even in death. A love beyond my reach. Dear, I really loved you. Is it the thought of having kids and we all sitting together around a table and eating like a family? Or the thought of me spending the rest of my life with you. I miss you, my love. I miss you so much. Nobody has been able to replace you. Nobody has been able to take your place. My fear came true. My worst fear came true. I won’t get to sit and laugh with you anymore. Somebody else will take my place, and it hurts. I still love you, but I can’t be with you. I know you will always be that only one dream I failed to achieve.

My love, I don’t know when loving you became instinct, when my heart stopped asking questions and simply chose you as its answer. But here I am, carrying you in every quiet moment, finding your name written in my thoughts even when I try not to look. If a million people love you, know that my love is one of them steady, unseen, unwavering. If only one person loves you, it is me, standing gently but firmly in that truth. And if the world ever feels empty of love, then it can only be because I am no longer here, for my heart has never learned how to stop choosing you. I love you beyond reason, beyond circumstance, beyond what words are capable of holding. I love you in patience, in presence, in the quiet promise of staying. Wherever life carries you, whatever you become, my love will meet you there soft, faithful, and real. Always yours, in this life and every borrowed eternity.

I don’t need grand promises anymore. I don’t need forever spoken out loud. What I needed, what I still need, is presence. To be chosen on the quiet days. On the days when nothing is exciting, when love isn’t loud, when effort feels heavier than desire. I wanted someone who would stay when the spark softened into something real, when misunderstandings bruised instead of burned, when love stopped being a chase and became a choice. I’ve learned that love isn’t proven in beginnings. It’s revealed in the middle when leaving would be easier, and staying requires courage. So if this letter ever finds its way into the world, let it say this clearly: Don’t promise me forever. Just stay in the silence, in the strain, in the moments where love is less beautiful but more honest. That would have been enough.

Airports have seen more sincere kisses than any wedding halls. And the walls of hospitals have heard more words of prayers than any secret place. It is because LOVE IS FELT MUCH WHEN ITS LEAVING.

Can I truly call my heart mine, when it is so completely filled with you? It searches for you in places untouched by human hands, where reality loosens its grip and fantasy dares to breathe. My heart wanders beyond reason, through quiet dreams and borrowed eternities, calling your name in a language only longing understands. And even when it finds nothing, it keeps searching, because loving you was never a choice, and forgetting you was never an option.

I haven't moved on, I’m just letting you live your life. I might not reach out as much, but if you ever do, I will reply instantly. I may not say good morning anymore but you're always the last thought i have before i drift off to sleep. I'm trying to focus on myself but the truth is, I miss you deeply, I'd love to talk to you but I know where I stand. You're always in my heart and it will always have a place for you.

And when nobody wakes you up in the morning. And when nobody waits for you at night. And when you can do whatever you want. What do you call it, Freedom or Loneliness ?

I promise to start this new year with you with intention, patience, and love. I promise to protect our time, to show up consistently, and to choose us even on the ordinary days. I promise to love you in ways that feel safe,steady, and sincere, to give attention where it’s needed and effort where it matters most. This is my promise to you: to grow with you, to care for what we’re building, and to keep choosing you today, and every day that follows.

When I tell you, you're mine, I don’t mean you're something I own, I mean you're the person my soul settles beside, the way oceans steady when the moon touches them, the way stars find their place in the dark, when I say I want you, it’s not to keep you small, but to witness every part of you, and when I promise I won’t let you go, I don’t mean I’ll hold you tight, I mean I’ll stay, especially when life get heavy.

The Power of Asking In the journey of love and connection, we often rely on assumptions built from our own experiences and worldview. Yet, it’s in the simple, open-ended questions that we find true understanding. How do you like to receive love? How do you like to give it? These questions open the door to empathy and deeper connection. They help us move beyond the surface and truly see our partners for who they are. The same approach applies to intimacy. By asking, What do you like and what do you not like? What has changed for you over time? How does your arousal work, and how much time do you need? We learn not just about our partner, but also about ourselves. These conversations break down barriers and allow for growth, understanding, and deeper intimacy. In relationships, the willingness to ask and listen transforms assumptions into genuine connection. It’s a journey of mutual discovery, where both partners grow and evolve together

I don’t always have the perfect words, but I promise you this , I will always show up for you. I’ll be there not just for the easy days, but for the heavy ones too, when the world feels loud, and loving you means staying when leaving would be simpler. I’ll notice the little things , the pauses in your voice, the worries you don’t say out loud, the moments when all you need is someone who won’t walk away. And in those moments, I’ll choose you , again and again , with patience, with presence, with love.

I am somewhere between endings, not far enough to forget, not close enough to arrive, But the things I once clung to, have learned to slip through my hands like guests, Who knows when to leave. Im building small worlds out of what's left, and calling it beginning, But beginnings don’t always answer back, Sometimes they just watch you, to see if you'll keep showing up. I tell myself I'm walking. yet every step sounds the same, as if the earth beneath me is tired, of carrying someone who doesn t know where she's going. And maybe thats all this season ask for, To keep standing, even when standing feels like waiting. To let go, without ceremony. To believe in what hasn't arrived, and still whisper. "I'm here."

May be one day we’ll meet again and explain to each other’s what really happened.. maybe one day we’ll finally understand until then I hope you live your best life and I hope you really do all the things you always wanted to do…. I hope you find the happiness and peace you were searching for ; even if it’s in a different place than we imagined .. I hope life is kind to you filling your days with warmth love and everything you deserve.. I hope you chased your dreams without hesitation laugh until your stomach hurts and love without fear…. I hope you wake up every morning excited for the day ahead and at night you comfort in knowing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be . And if our paths ever cross again ,; I hope we can look at each other with nothing but gratitude for the memories for the lessons and for the journey that brought us here and maybe that’s enough to have felt something real , even if it couldn’t stay maybe one day we’ll meet again and explain to each other what really happened .. maybe one day we’ll finally understand until then I hope you live your best life and I hope you really do all the things you wanted to do

How is strength defined? What is strength? Is it my ability to be silent when I'm being treated unfairly by someone older than me or with power ? Or when I'm able to speak up and not give a damn what anyone thinks? Its crazy right? They expect you to keep quiet no matter how much something is killing you inside They tell you everything will be ok They say that's how it is Life's wasn't fair to him So I should be on the receiving end of his expression of pain? Can I also go ahead and treat people poorly because I'm also struggling or had a bad childhood? When will anyone be honest? When will anyone be fair? When will anyone hear me? When will society see it? When will they recognise it? Will they ever acknowledge it?

Becoming Brighter There was a time when I felt dim, like whatever light I carried had faded with everything I lost. But slowly very slowly my world has been getting brighter again. Not all at once, not dramatically, but in small, honest ways that feel real. I’m not who I was. But I’m starting to like who I’m becoming.

Love, But Softly I used to think love had to be loud big gestures, heavy emotions, everything dramatic. But now I’m learning it can be quiet. A sense of peace that settles in your chest, a gentleness you don’t have to question, a feeling that doesn’t demand it exists. I don’t know where love will find me next, But I hope it feels soft. I hope it feels kind. I hope it feels like something I don’t have to survive… only experience.

Learning Myself Again I’m learning to be patient with myself to sit with the emotions I used to run from, to understand the parts of me I never slowed down to meet. Learning Myself Again I’m realising that growth isn’t about becoming a new person. It’s becoming someone I can finally recognise. I don’t have all the answers, but I’m learning to breathe again And that feels like enough for now.

A Quiet Kind of Missing Some days I’m fine. Other days something small a song, a scent, a memory reminds me of what used to be, and the missing comes back like a soft ache. It doesn’t hurt the way it once did. It’s gentler now, like a shadow of someone I used to be learning how to move forward with grace. I don’t want to go back. But I honor the parts of me that still remember.

Soft Hope Sometimes I imagine a version of life where everything finally makes sense, where the right people stay, the wrong people drift away gently, And my heart feels lighter than it has in years. I’m not there yet, but I can feel myself moving toward it, slowly, quietly, almost without realising it. Maybe healing isn’t loud. Maybe it’s the small moments where you choose yourself when you never used to. I don’t know who I’ll become, but I hope they’re proud of me.