Fuck that love that doesn’t wipe my tears or hold me when I’m down.
Category Archives: Personal
Being happy sometimes terrifies me. It makes me anxious because, as flawed as it is, I believe that life is designed to move in cycles, where every high comes with a low.
He’s sitting in front of me, perfect in every way. I adore every inch, every crease. And I think to myself, how is this real? How am I feeling this way? And more shockingly, why is he gazing back with the exact same emotions, as if he can read my mind?
I keep falling in love with him more every day. I’m completely smitten.
It’s almost too uncomfortable. Why can’t things be bad again? Why can’t I count on sadness to be steady? Being happy means an inevitable sadness will follow. But for now, damn. I might as well fall.
This city feels too small, almost suffocating at times. There’s so little to do to take your mind off things, so I confine myself.
There are only so many Friday nights you can spend alone before it gets to your lonely self.
How many Friday nights must you spend alone, longing, waiting?
I think I know deep down that I deserve better, but better hasn’t really come along. My heart doesn’t settle on better—it settles on chaos.
Hi, let’s try to write something raw, right from my heart.
Lately, my inspiration to write has been rather dull. I think learning harsh realities of the world has left me feeling drained. On one hand, it has made me want to hide, to not be so vulnerable here, maybe even use it as my power, but then, for what? That’s one thing I’ve always stood against. It might not have been the right way, but shying away from my authenticity feels like a betrayal. Hiding parts of who I am, or stopping myself from doing the things I love, feels equally defeating. It doesn’t fill my soul—it starves me.
Life lately though, has been insane. Not in a chaotic way—I’m rather calm, thanks to my SSRIs.
Deep down, I know I deserve better. I know I deserve to be loved, cared for, and looked after. I know I deserve the things my heart desires. But every time all of these things come knocking on my door, I turn them down. They never reach my heart. And again, I can’t live a lie, even if that lie would provide all the things I’ve ever dreamt of—except maybe love, because the heart is the hardest to convince, even when the mind knows better.
I’ve been cutting myself down, enduring things I shouldn’t, all in the name of excitement. I’ve been bored for too long, and this feels exciting. It might be love too. But I can’t admit that love could make me feel so low at times.
Love doesn’t make you question yourself. Love doesn’t make you jealous of other women. But then, that’s on me for believing a married man.
Once you’ve felt safe, you immediately recognize when you don’t. I’ve felt safe once in my life, and I’m afraid I will forever long for that feeling again. But goodbyes were said, and now I settle for whatever my heart craves, even if it’s chaos. If it makes me feel alive, I’ll choose it.
I don’t think my “person” is out there. It’s a feeling I’m searching for, not a person, and I’m spending my whole life longing for it, yet mostly being fine without it. I think I’ve been broken in so many ways that nothing fazes me anymore. My friend said that today. I think she might be right. I allow it all. I even laugh at it. Maybe because the pieces of my heart have been broken for so long, and the people who promised to heal me only tortured the damaged pieces in the name of love.
But let’s be honest: I won’t ask a man to stay. I believe in the flow of life, and I can only be with someone who chooses me in the end.
Waking up in your bed, feeling paralyzed, your heart trying to jump out of your chest. You can’t make any sense of what’s going on. You can only turn to your toxic coping traits; they’ve kept you going for so long, they won’t abandon you now. It’s either that or completely break down. You’ve been spiraling, without any steadiness to hold onto. Everything feels shaky, every truth comes with a lie, nothing is what it seems. You’ve been played, again. Thought you knew better, thought you were smarter, but at the end of the day, you’re just a girl who wants to be loved. Love, your kryptonite. Charming men, your drug.
The nothingness is what feels like the most torture. The uncertainty, the void. It feels so deep, impenetrable.
How can you not freak out, right? These things happen. People promise you the world, and then they disappear. You just never thought it would happen to you. But it has. And now, you have to accept it. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s embarrassing. But how brave of you to love so fiercely. How brave of you to think he would catch you when he asked you to jump. How brave of you to hope in such a hopeless world.
Walking home from the office is something I love, even though the streets of Malé aren’t built for walking. It’s not the cracked pavements or the narrow lanes that draw me in—it’s the people I come across.
There was this old woman I saw today, probably in her late 70s. Her short white hair stood out like a crown of wisdom, and her gentle demeanor caught me off guard. She stood quietly at the edge of the pavement, making space for everyone else to pass. Such a gentle soul. I smiled at her, and to my surprise, she smiled back. It was such a simple exchange, yet it warmed my heart in a way that words can’t describe. And just around the corner, I saw a father picking up his child from daycare—a toddler no older than one. In that brief moment, the circle of life seemed to close before my eyes. One woman nearing the end of her journey, and a father holding the future in his arms.
This is why I love these walks, even when they’re born out of necessity because I couldn’t find a cab. It started to drizzle as I walked, adding a softness to the chaos of the day. The rain always has a way of making everything feel a little more forgiving. Despite the mess in my mind, these walks remind me of how small my worries are in the grand scheme of things. You pass by countless lives, each filled with their own struggles, joys, and quiet moments of grace. And somehow, in that passing, you realize that your problems may not be as overwhelming as they seem. The world goes on, and so will you.
It’s been a rough week, and I can feel myself slipping. Slowly, piece by piece, I’ve started losing interest in parts of my life that once mattered, and with that comes this unsettling feeling—like I’m losing control of everything. There’s this constant weight, like I’m standing at a crossroads I never chose, faced with decisions I don’t want to make, and somehow, I keep hurting the one person I love the most. Unintentionally, but still, I’m causing pain, and it’s eating away at me.
Right now, I’m sitting here making yet another promise to myself: that next week will be different. That next week, I’ll finally get my life together, clean up the mess, and fix what’s broken. But deep down, there’s this strange, nagging feeling. It’s familiar because I’ve been here before, telling myself the same thing over and over. And the truth is, for so long, I thought I already had my shit together. Even when I was battling my depression, even when my mind was a storm of confusion and noise, I could still drag myself out of bed. I could still function, go to work, and keep up appearances.
But now, it feels different. Now, I can’t seem to push through. It’s like my energy is completely drained, and I’m left staring at this version of myself I don’t recognize. Maybe I know where the problem lies, maybe I don’t. Either way, something inside me has shifted, and I know I have to face it. The hardest part is figuring out where to start, because for the first time, I feel like I’m truly lost. It’s a problem I can’t keep running from anymore—something’s got to give, and I’m the only one who can fix it.
She Was Sea 