Love does not end—it quietly forgets you, until the person who once saw sunshine in you now walks past as if you are just darkness.

You deserve the best so find yourself a man who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him on him because he knows you are not doing well, who will stand in front of you when other's cast stones at you, who will stay awake just to watch you sleep and murmur his name often. A man who wants to show you off to the world even when you are in your sweats, who will hold your hands when you are sick or in despair and who thinks you are pretty without makeup.

I very well know you shut yourself off—not because you don’t feel anything but because you feel too much of everything and it's not your fault, you have sweetest and the kindest heart I have ever felt. The world’s noise is too loud, isn't it? It's weight is too heavy, so you build walls, quietly, brick by brick carefully, hoping no one would notice how worn out you are. But I notice, I always do. So I won’t knock on your door or ask you to speak. Instead, I’ll find my way to you without asking for directions. I’ll hold you tight and calmly—not with questions, not with words, but with presence. I’ll wrap my arms around you like a promise, like a home, and press my silence to your silence until they melt together within eachother.

"Every time I dream. I dream about you being with me, your soft and sweet voice, it calms the noise in my mind. Your pearl like eyes, when we share a glance it feels like you are adding a charm to my very existence. Your smile feels like the ray of light my darkness just like the moon does for the night sky. Your laugh is like music to my ears, and most of the time, the much needed therapeutic soothing. Every time, I hear you giggle, it makes me feel happy and cheerful on the inside.

In a world of half-hearted scrolls and distracted hearts, this is love’s quiet rebellion: a space where your unfiltered thoughts aren’t too much but enough. Where my silence isn’t absence, but an altar — proof that being heard is the rarest kind of belonging. Let your love be a recorder for the words others dismiss: your rants, your rambles, your nervous laughter, your sweet blushing, your painful Stories and pasts and also the stories you wish to write, spill your words like constellations. Because the deepest intimacy isn’t touch or in the eyes — it’s in your sweet voice, the voice that wishes to be heard.

Either this stripped down solitude or the storm of love- nothing else in this world will interests me.

Yes, it's okay to miss someone that you loved. It's okay to grieve even if the relationship ended badly or never happened. It's okay to have those memories wandering in your mind even though you know, you ain't going back to that time ever again. It's okay to suddenly want to cry over that someone and feeling fine right after, for a while because something reminded you of them.

I thought, I would burn this world down if, I saw you with someone else, but when I saw you happily hugging him, smiling at him, holding his hand and talking to him, I couldn't even light a match.