I want to push harder, but I’m scared. Scared that if I do, they’ll leave. Even though I’ve healed, there’s still this lingering thought that I’m unlovable. I’ve believed it for so long that it’s like muscle memory—the feeling of not being wanted or loved enough.

Children who grow up broken become broken adults. So love your kids well, not because it’s something that needs to be said, but because it should be instinctual—human nature. Every child who isn’t loved properly grows into someone who craves it, who settles for any scraps of affection they find. They’ll love you raw, without armor, because they’re desperate. So they settle. I’ll take what I can get. If intimacy means giving myself up, then fine. I’ll do it just to feel close to someone, to feel loved, even if it’s fleeting. Damn this life. Damn the demons I carry. Damn every self-sabotaging, destructive version of me.

I feel heavy with sadness today.

I’m in tears. I want to call you, to say I need you. But if you wanted to be here, you would be. So I don’t.

While she was packing up her things and walking away from him, she had no idea that just a few miles away, another girl sat in front of a camera, obliviously straightening her hair, speaking to a screen, wrapped in her own world. The weight of leaving someone behind, the silence that now filled the emptying home—these two moments existed in separate universes, untouched by one another. Yet soon, they would intersect in a way no one expected.

That’s the strange yet beautiful thing about life. One story had to end so another could begin, all in perfect timing. Life is all about timing. Two people can meet and fall in love, but for that love to flourish, they need both timing and luck on their side. And that’s what we had.

I was the girl at home, talking to my camera. A little blue, but relishing my freedom. Love was something I had once craved, but now it sat on the back burner, an afterthought. He, on the other hand, was a stranger to me—a fleeting memory of one of the oddest, most uncomfortable encounters of my life when I was 22. Back then, if you’d told me he’d reenter my life, I would’ve laughed. Nine years had passed since that strange encounter, and yet here we were, our paths about to cross again in the most serendipitous way.

Honestly, if I could’ve chosen, I wouldn’t have picked to be in the same room as him, let alone share any part of my life. I didn’t know him, and frankly, I didn’t care to. Our history was messy and complicated. It wasn’t the kind of past that led to second chances.

But life, in its peculiar way, brought us back together, this time with the possibility of something new. A clean slate, if we wanted it. Whether we would become friends or simply two people who no longer held onto bitterness was something we had to decide for ourselves. He, surprisingly, chose to be the bigger person. He reached out first. Not in the kindest way—no, his initial approach was a full-on public takedown. But just weeks later, he offered something unexpected: a simple apology. There was curiosity in his words, a softness I hadn’t known before.

Of course, he still had his pride, and he made sure I knew he wanted me to own up to my part in our shared history. He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t been perfect either, and I could see that now. So I apologized—for the unfairness.

And that was how it started. What began as a hesitant, almost misguided attempt at friendship soon became something much deeper. We started talking—really talking. What began as casual conversations evolved into long, late-night phone calls. Hours would pass, and we would lose ourselves in each other’s voices, sharing pieces of ourselves that had long been hidden. The world outside, which had once seemed so gray, began to fill with color again.

She was desperately trying to hold herself together, but her heart felt like it was shattering. She didn’t know how to feel or what to think anymore. Time passed, yet nothing soothed her mind or soul. She was slipping into helplessness, edging closer to desperation. Her heart raced uncontrollably, making it impossible to stay still.

After work, she’d taken a nap, hoping it would bring some peace or at least pass the time. Her alarm woke her, reminding her of a spa appointment she’d booked earlier, unaware of how awful the day would turn out to be. It was too late to cancel, so she forced herself up and got ready. Her heart was far from calm, but there was no other option.

She hadn’t heard from him in over 12 hours. It wasn’t like him, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing this on purpose. Was this his way of saying something without saying anything at all? She hadn’t cried yet, but she knew the tears would come when reality hit her.

Everything around her reminded her of him. This was her first real attachment since the breakup a year ago, the one she’d sworn would be her last. Yet here she was again, falling hard and fast for him. He’d charmed her effortlessly, said all the right things, and now his absence was tearing her apart.

The only thing holding her together was the medication. Maybe that’s why the tears hadn’t come yet.

Now, 16 hours had passed without a word from him, and she was barely holding on. She couldn’t believe it was happening. One moment he was making promises, and the next, he had disappeared. She couldn’t understand how someone she trusted with her heart could vanish like this. It was cruel, and it left her questioning everything—how she had let him in, let him become part of her life, only for him to discard her so easily.

She saw two paths ahead: one where she spiraled into self-loathing and blamed herself for everything he had done, or one where she realized it wasn’t about her at all. She had just been caught in someone else’s game. That was her misfortune, and perhaps her lesson.

She vowed never to call him again. But deep down, she knew if he reached out, she’d answer. So she prayed that he wouldn’t.

Nearly 24 hours later, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Reality hit her like a wave. The meds wore off, and she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. She couldn’t stop herself from dialing his number over and over. No answer. She left voicemail after voicemail, her voice choked with tears. She sent message after message. No reply.

Has she lost him?

“How are you, love?”

It felt like a miracle that she asked, completely out of the blue. Maybe our closest friends are attuned to our inner turmoil, sensing when something isn’t right.

I wanted to be honest with her, to tell her the truth—that I was hurting, disappointed, maybe even defeated.

But I couldn’t. Not without casting the man I loved in a bad light. So, instead, I chose to protect him, burying my own feelings deep inside.

I almost lied and told her I was fine. It’s strange what we do for love—silently enduring just to keep their image intact in front of others.

I’ve been here before. I’ve learned this lesson. Yet, here I was, ready to repeat it because I had fallen once again. How foolish—after everything, how foolish.

But instead of hiding, I let myself be vulnerable. I told her the truth—that I’m still trying to figure it all out. Some days feel like a dream; others, it feels like I’m on the verge of collapsing under the weight of it. Love never seems to be kind to the heart.

She tells me that doesn’t sound good. I tell her it isn’t. And I’m too afraid to admit it to myself.

And so I pray, hoping that I can find a way to protect my heart before it’s too late.

August has suddenly become my favorite month.

For the longest time, August was just a fleeting moment—‘August slipped away into a moment in time, ’cause it was never mine.’ But this year, I want to rewrite those lyrics. I don’t want August to slip away; I want it to last. I want us to stay by each other’s side, laughing, loving, and kissing forever.

I can’t tell our full story just yet, but I can’t wait until I can. He makes me feel things I never knew I was capable of feeling. I may be medicated, but I’m also in love. And nothing can take this feeling away.

🧿

August, what have you done to me? I knew I’d been missing the spark of love, but I didn’t expect it to hit me this hard, so suddenly. One random turn, and I’ve fallen head over heels—and it’s made me so unbelievably happy. The beauty of it lies in how unexpected it was. I never saw it coming. It feels real, too, because things moved so fast at first that it scared me. I almost messed it up, like I always do, but I managed to pull it together. That’s when I realized just how much it all means to me.

I can’t predict the future, but I know one thing for sure: I don’t want a future without him in it. And I mean every word.

Loving someone when you’re so broken is no easy thing. Pain hits you out of nowhere, and you don’t even know where it hurts. But having someone who loves you, who holds you through it all, constantly calling you “my baby”—damn, I’ve missed being loved. It’s been years since I last felt anything like this, or maybe I never have. This time feels different. He is different. And I’m crazy about him.

🧿

I’m all over the place.

Do I dissociate? Because at times, my words and actions don’t feel or sound like me. It’s like I change my mind the moment the words leave my mouth, as if my thoughts and my voice are disconnected. I wonder if this is what it means to be ungrounded, to feel like you’re floating away from your own identity, unsure of where you stand.

It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff, taking one blind step forward after another, almost daring the universe to see if one of those steps will lead to my end. There’s a thrill, a dark rush, in tempting fate, in flirting with the possibility of destruction.

And when it comes to people, I do something eerily similar. It’s not death that I flirt with, but abandonment. I push them away, sabotage the connections, all while riding the high of wondering which of my reckless actions or careless words will finally drive them away for good.

My thoughts are scattered, untethered, like leaves in the wind. I’m ungrounded, drifting from one extreme to the next.

I don’t want to hurt people, but somehow, if I’m out there—I do. It’s as if the very act of being present in someone’s life carries with it the inevitability of causing pain.

I heard that two kids jumped to their deaths from the 67th floor. The news wouldn’t leave my mind; it sparked an intrigue I couldn’t resist. Who were they? What were they like? Why did they do it?

They had their whole lives ahead of them. Surely, nothing could have been that bad, but when we think clearly, nothing ever is, right? The problem is that sanity is a luxury—not everyone is blessed with it. Some are trapped in the darkest corners of their minds, where reason and hope seem unreachable.

I didn’t understand it.

I couldn’t control my tears, trying desperately to hide them. What had happened? He’d said something hurtful—just a little joke, really—but it pierced me deeply. I told him to stop, half-joking, hoping he’d understand. He laughed it off, and I pretended to forgive him.

But my mood shifted; I shut down. Tears flowed silently. Why was I so hurt? It wasn’t about him. I couldn’t even pinpoint the source of the pain, just that it was there.

Normally, I’d think it was because I liked him so much, that his words had power over me. But it went deeper. My insecurities were triggered, my self-esteem crumbled, revealing all the struggles I battle daily. These were my issues.

I just wanted him to leave, so I could cry in peace, drowning in feelings of being damaged and broken.

After I sleep with someone, I become vulnerable, like a fragile glass house. It’s why I need to keep my guard up. If I don’t protect myself, I risk shattering into pieces over and over again.

It’s astonishing how you can have a breakdown right in front of someone without them noticing a thing. It’s impressive, in a way.

And I felt completely broken.

I keep listening to it whenever I’m falling apart. It reminds me of you, of the last and probably the only time in recent years when I broke down in someone’s arms. You did what anyone would do; you held me like it was fine. You played a song that carved a new organ out of me, helping me feel better.

So I play it again and again, every time I crash.