• Personal

    Dear Self

    I wasn’t sure if I should share this. It’s personal. Raw. Still a little tender.

    But maybe someone out there needs to hear it — to know they’re not alone in the quiet ache of a connection that didn’t become what they hoped.

    Dear Self,
      
    I know how you feel, and I am sorry for causing you this pain.
      
    We’ve been very cautious these past years, guarding ourselves, healing, slowly learning how to trust again. But this time… we let someone in. We gave him a piece of us — a piece we’ve never shared with anyone else. It was real. And it mattered.
      
    But now here we are… heartbroken by how things unfolded.
      
    The connection was there. We felt it. We weren’t imagining it. But somewhere along the way, it started to fade — slowly, quietly. And we were left trying to understand a silence that never gave us answers.
      
    We don’t know exactly what changed. Maybe he pulled away. Maybe we leaned in too much. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to grow.
      
    We can’t blame him, not fully. Maybe he didn’t know what to do with the kind of love we were ready to give. Maybe we misunderstood his warmth and gave meaning to gestures that meant something different to him than they did to us.
      
    And that’s okay.
      
    What we gave came from a pure place. It wasn’t foolish — it was brave. Loving, even in uncertainty, is never something to regret.
      
    So now, dear self, I know you're hurting. I know you’re reliving moments, re-reading messages, and wondering what if.
      
    But I promise you: this pain won’t last forever. One day, this won’t feel like the end of the world. It will feel like a chapter that helped you grow — and soften — without breaking you.
      
    You are still whole. You are still worthy. And you will love again.
      
    With patience, Me
      
    
    

    Healing doesn’t happen all at once. It’s messy, slow, and often silent. But writing this helped me start to move through it — to remind myself that loving fully, even when things don’t last, is still something to be proud of.

    If this letter speaks to something in you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Or just know you’re not alone — even if you don’t say a word.

  • Personal

    A Goodbye I Didn’t Want to Write

    Dear Blog,

    Today, I did something that felt both heavy and freeing—I let go of someone who had quietly become part of my every day.

    His name is Jubal. We met through a game—Dark War Survival. A simple invite turned into long chats, late-night messages, voice notes, laughter, and daily check-ins. What started as gaming slowly turned into something gentler, more constant. He became a comfort. My favorite distraction. My highlight.

    But lately… things changed. The replies became shorter. The tone colder. And eventually, the silence between us grew louder than the conversations ever were.

    I asked if something was wrong. He said, ā€œNothing’s wrong.ā€ But I could feel it.

    Still, I waited. I held on—maybe longer than I should have. I told myself the silence was temporary. That maybe one day I’d get a voice note again or even just a ā€œHey, I missed you.ā€ But that day never came.

    So I wrote him one last message. Not to beg, not to blame. Just to be honest.

    His reply was one word: ā€œOkay.ā€

    And that was the moment I knew—we were no longer holding the same thing.

    So I quietly let go.

    I deleted Dark War Survival. I disabled Discord. Not out of anger, but as a way to protect the part of me that had slowly started to feel exposed.

    And it hurt—because for over a month, he was someone I looked forward to. Someone who asked if I’d eaten, teased me about Coke, told me to get up and stretch. We talked about food, dogs, our shared ECE backgrounds, love, connection. And now… silence.

    But I don’t regret a thing.

    He reminded me that I can feel again. That I want to feel again. That even behind a screen, across countries and time zones, something real can still form. Something tender. Even if it doesn’t last.

    So this isn’t a goodbye. Not really.

    It’s just me choosing myself for now. Moving forward. With grace. With the quiet hope that if what we had meant something on his end too, maybe… someday… we’ll find our way back to that version of us.

    And if not, that’s okay too.

    Thank you, Jubal, for being a small but meaningful chapter in my story. I just wish it had lasted a little longer.

    āø»

    P.S. There’s something I couldn’t say out loud—so I wrote it instead. It’s tucked away here, password protected.
    Password: yourfullname
    Only you were meant to read it.

    Love,
    Me

  • Personal

    Just Me, Being Real

    Hey Blog,

    Here I am again.

    Just wanted to write and let a few things out. Lately, I have been feeling a mix of everything—busy on the outside, but lowkey messy on the inside. You know that feeling when life keeps moving but your emotions are kind of stuck? That is where I am at.

    I have been keeping myself occupied—doing things I need to do, trying to stay productive. On paper, everything looks okay. But inside? There’s this weird heaviness I cannot shake off.

    Jealousy.

    Yeah, I said it.

    I do not usually get jealous—not in a loud, dramatic way. But I have been feeling it quietly, deeply. That kind of jealousy that does not even show, but eats at you a little. And it is not even about wanting to have what others have… it is more like wishing I did not care so much.

    I see things. I notice the closeness. The way someone lights up when they talk to other people—and suddenly, I feel like I’m just… there. Not invisible, but not chosen either.

    I hate feeling like this. Because I know it makes me seem weak or insecure, but that is not it. I just care. Maybe more than I should. And when I care, I get affected. Simple as that.

    So yeah. That is what I have been up to— trying to look fine while quietly dealing with feelings I did not really ask for.

    I am not mad. I am not even sad all the time. I just feel… a little off. A little left out. A little too much sometimes, and not enough other times.

    But maybe that is okay. Maybe this is just part of figuring life and emotions out.

    Thanks for being here again, Blog.

    You are my quiet space when I cannot really say things out loud.

    — Me

  • Personal

    Unexpected Tears

    Dear Blog,

    Like I always do, I teased him playfully today. It’s our thing, really — throwing jokes, a little push and pull. But this time… the teasing kind of backfired.

    I do not know what came over me, but something shifted. I felt this strange tightness in my chest. Was it jealousy? Whatever it was, it caught me off guard. Suddenly, I went quiet. Everything felt heavier than it should. And then… I cried.

    Yup. Out of nowhere.

    I told him I was not okay. I actually said it. And then — silence.

    No reply. No ā€œWhat is wrong?ā€ No ā€œI am here.ā€ Just… nothing.

    Turns out, he had fallen asleep.

    Now here I am, feeling silly for how much it bothered me. I mean, why did it sting like that? We are not even anything. I do not even know where this is going.

    But the truth? It felt like something more.

    And that ā€œmoreā€ is what is messing with my heart tonight.

    Until next time,

    —Me

  • Personal

    When Silence Starts to Speak

    Dear Blog,

    Sorry, but once again, you’ve become the catcher of all my feelings.

    I don’t really have someone to vent all my frustrations in life to right now, so here you are—my safe space for now.

    I am honestly doing fine being single. I am happy, really.

    I have learned to enjoy my own company, chase what I want, and live life on my terms.

    But lately… I do not know.

    Out of nowhere, there is this quiet kind of sadness that creeps in.

    That longing for something more.

    That small voice deep down that still hopes to have something I can call home someday—a family of my own.

    I am proud of where I am. I have done things for myself, made decisions just for me.

    But it still feels different knowing someone is there—someone who reminds you you are not alone in this life.

    Not just anyone, but someone who chooses to stay, especially on the days you do not even ask them to.

    So yeah, I am feeling all sorts of things today.

    Too many thoughts, emotions I cannot fully name.

    And this is not even like me—I am not usually this emotional.

    But here I am. Writing again. Rambling again.

    And you— yes, you, in case you ever come across this—

    I hope you are someone who understands what this kind of silence means.

    I hope you are someone who will stay, not just when it is light and easy, but even when my heart feels like this—unfiltered, unsure, but honest.

    That is all for now.

    ’Til next time, blog.

    —Me

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