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.

The lies I told him.

I told him I didn’t believe in praying for people because I believed everything was predestined, that what’s meant for you will never slip away.

But I was terrified of losing him, so I went home and asked for him in sujood.

I felt ashamed, but my heart got ahead of me. He became the name in my prayers.

I might be giving up on love, and maybe it won’t be the worst thing. Because, let’s be honest, what has loving people gotten me? Trying to choose people I fell for has done nothing but wreck me.

But that was something I always said, that I would never compromise with love, that if I ever settled down, I would be settling down with my best friend. And that’s the idea I always had in mind. I believed love was what made living worthwhile. And I don’t think I’m wrong there.

But maybe love helps achieve different things for different people. Our end goal isn’t love; love is simply a tool that helps us achieve greater things. We want to be loved, and that means feeling safe and secure with someone. And to feel that way, it is important that they love you. But it’s irrelevant whether you love them.

My mother used to tell me that I should find someone who loved me, not someone whom I loved. And I see her point now. But I think it would be best if I found someone who loved me more than I loved them. I still can’t let go of the idea that I can’t completely compromise with love. I can compromise a little; maybe it doesn’t have to be a great love, but it still has to be love.

But then, what is love? When I think of love, I think of all the times my soul left my body and entwined with someone else’s. And that’s happened almost never. But there have been many times my anxious or insecure attachment styles led me to believe that I desperately loved someone. And now, looking back, that may not have been it.

But friendship, love must be friendship.

And while I might be giving up on the idea of love, I just want to be loved. And one final thing, not to victimize myself, but not being loved right as a child and through your adolescent years makes finding the right kind of love incredibly difficult. Because first, you don’t really know what it feels like to be loved or to even allow it. But maybe I’ll learn.

But love perhaps isn’t everything. There are more important things: safety, security, and assurance. And loving yourself means prioritizing what’s good for your soul, not just for your heart.

I find it beautiful and bittersweet how time can reveal our true feelings towards someone. Often, we leave relationships and connections assuming we’ll find more like them, only to realise that some connections are irreplaceable. Some people love you in such a unique way that, years later, you recognise what a remarkable chance meeting it was.

You gotta love that stage, where you lose feelings for someone
Who never bothered to reciprocate them.
It’s a bittersweet freedom, like dawn breaking through night,
As you slowly free yourself from the chains of devastation,
Begging for effort that was not once granted.