Lost Space

I think one of the reasons the word “manipulation” became so common online is because people are finally learning how to identify unhealthy relationship dynamics that were normalized before.

And honestly, that’s a good thing.

People are becoming more aware of emotional abuse, gaslighting, control, guilt-tripping, and toxic communication patterns that many of us grew up seeing as “normal.” Conversations that used to stay hidden are finally being discussed openly.

But at the same time, I also think people sometimes flatten human behavior too quickly.

Not every harmful action automatically comes from evil intent or calculated manipulation.

Sometimes people genuinely grew up around emotional instability. Some people copied survival behaviors from the environments they were raised in. Others were never taught healthy communication, emotional regulation, or accountability.

Because of that, people may:

avoid direct communication,

emotionally withdraw,

become passive aggressive,

overreact during conflict,

constantly seek reassurance,

guilt-trip unintentionally,

or even gaslight without fully realizing what they’re doing.

Not because they’re sitting there thinking: “How can I control this person?”

But because those behaviors became their way of emotionally surviving.

Human behavior is more complicated than social media sometimes makes it seem.

I honestly think there are different layers to these situations.

There are people who hurt others through unhealthy coping mechanisms they barely understand themselves.

There are also people who are semi-aware — they know their behavior affects others emotionally, but they justify it, minimize it, or avoid reflecting on it deeply.

And then there are people who deliberately manipulate, deceive, exploit, or control others for personal gain.

Those are not all the same thing.

But online conversations sometimes treat them as if they are identical, and I think that removes a lot of nuance from how humans actually work.

At the same time, I also don’t think intention completely erases impact.

Someone can unintentionally hurt people and still leave real emotional damage behind. A person not meaning to hurt someone does not magically make the pain disappear.

That’s why I think compassion and accountability should coexist.

Not: “They’re evil.”

But also not: “They didn’t mean it, so it doesn’t matter.”

I think the more emotionally mature perspective is somewhere in the middle.

Sometimes healing isn’t about labeling yourself as either a “good person” or a “manipulator.”

Sometimes it’s simply realizing: “Some behaviors I learned may hurt people, and I need to understand and unlearn them.”

This pause.

Letting go.

Time in between.

It made me see someone

I haven’t seen for years.

She’s still crying,

waiting for me

to acknowledge her.

I thought when I left

I would be lost.

But I’ve been found instead.

Now I’m asking her,

what do you want?

She just stared at me,

longing in her eyes—

Now I’m allowing myself to get lost in my mind again.

It was once my escape. Then life happened.

It became a warzone. Time stopped. Everything went numb. Slowly, I lost her.

I pretended it was fun. Told myself I was ungrateful.

I drowned in everyone else’s dreams, their expectations. Fear settled in. I learned to love the darkness.

I flatlined. Beep… beep.

I heard it. I felt it.

Like a boulder lifting, the heaviness began to fade.

I wept.

I keep learning new songs,

wanting music I'm not even familiar with.

It excites me.

I thought I needed to feel all the butterflies,

didn't even look at the lyrics

just learned and tried to fit in.

I tried my best to listen,

to fit myself into a track I didn’t even belong to.

I hated my own music.

I thought it was too tacky,

out of tune,

or my voice too shaky.

I kept skipping songs.

Then, out of nowhere,

music played like it was meant for me.

I never had to force myself to listen.

It just fit.

I read the lyrics, carefully written for me.

I noticed the shift in tune.

I thought I had changed.

I looked at a track made for me

like a mirror.

No.

I found it.

My melody.

In all the noise.

I don’t care if it’s tacky.

I didn’t know it could feel this easy

I don’t know how to hold you in my heart anymore. For so many years, you were my anchor, my human diary, my safe place. I trusted you with the parts of me that no one else ever saw. I thought what we had was rare, maybe unbreakable.

That’s why your silence, your letters, and your anger cut so deeply. I’m still confused, were those 14 years a lie, or did we just lose our way? I replay our laughter, our secrets, our small moments of loyalty, and I can’t reconcile them with the way you turned against me.

I want to believe you loved me, too, in your own way. Maybe you did. But the way it ended, it wasn’t love. It was sharp, cold, and merciless. And yet here I am, still loving you in fragments, even when it hurts.

I miss you. But I also miss me, the me who felt safe with you. I can’t go back there, not unless you see me again, truly see me.

In the quiet hum of the car, I spilled the weight of years— baggage I thought would break me, stories I feared no one could stay to hear.

But he reached across the silence, not to erase, not to deny, only to say, “I’ll carry this with you— your shadows will not make me shy.”

And later, when the night trembled and my chest caved in with grief, he held my head in gentle hands, offered questions that became relief.

“Name a place you long to see.” I whispered, “My ...” “And one soul you wish could hold you?” Through tears, I answered, “Lola… if she can.”

Then he wrapped his arms around me, his voice a bridge through time and loss: “She’s proud of you, she smiles at you, you are never carrying this alone, not across.”

I feel light and warm,

I remember starting my poems with

doubt and how cold I am,

I still fear the future,

remember the past

Now I try to exist

in my present.

Still have my mind overthinking

from time to time

But I feel anchored now.

I trust that I can make

anything possible.

Empowered.

I love you ~

I wake up in a trance, Holding a knife, Blood all over me.

“HELP!” I cried.

I can’t see anything, But I can hear the murmurs— Slowly getting louder.

My head spinning, Stomach tight.

I heard: “Tick, tock, tick, tock...”

Then I felt someone hug me from behind.

“It’s over now. You should rest,” he said.

Relief washed through my whole being.

for Senaia

She was not born from silence, but was taught to wear it like a second skin— taught that tears should be tucked under the tongue, that bruises were just another shade of childhood.

She learned early how to read the room before she ever learned to read words, how to hush her joy, how to smile while swallowing storms.

There were hands that should have held her but raised instead— voices that should have shielded but sliced instead— and a God she once prayed to with trembling fingers, asking, why was love shaped like pain?

But she endured.

She made homes out of pens. Built altars out of notebooks. Whispered her poems to empty rooms and filled them with the kind of tenderness no one had ever given her.

She guarded her brother’s tiny body from flies and forgetting. She tied ribbons around memories that no one else remembered. She grew quiet, not from peace— but from exhaustion.

And still— when they thought she’d shatter for good, she stood.

She left the room where love was weaponized. She stopped apologizing for being a storm. She chose the man who made her breakfast instead of the crowd who made her doubt. She kissed peace on the mouth and said: I think I’ve been waiting for you all my life.

Now— she wakes up to stillness. To soft mornings and warmer hands. To the sound of her own voice, steady and sacred.

They say she hurt people. And maybe she did. But no one ever talks about the years she bled just to keep everyone else whole.

No one saw how brave it was to finally say, “This time—I choose me.”

And in choosing herself, she didn't become selfish. She became free.

I see you bright as day, smiling at me. It melts my heart every time.

I waved my hand, cheerful, calling out, “My love!” I said it full of hope, of happiness, of love.

Like a sculpture made of glass, you shone a brightness that made life feel lighter.

I let myself drown in it. I was consumed. I thought forever felt like this.

I once said, “Burn me into ashes, so I can be with you forever.”

I was too scared to fail you.

But when you love too intensely, something will always break along the way.

My love is still the same just no longer with me.

I’ve been running for as long as I can remember— pausing now and then, just to catch my breath. But something was always chasing me.

“Stop!” I cried.

It didn’t. Instead, it asked, “Give me your feet. Walk where I tell you to.”

So I ran again. Then stopped. It asked once more, “Give me your hands. Do what I command you to.”

I ran, stopped, and somewhere along the way, I lost something.

“Please… stop,” I begged.

It didn’t listen. “Give me your tears. And don’t cry again.”

I crumbled. Then came a wave—crashing into me, hard. I felt nothing. I stopped caring.

For a while, it lulled me, numbed me. But the waves kept breaking. Again. And again. Until I was just… hollow. Dark.

I dragged myself through the unknown. Then, out of nowhere, something struck me. It knocked the breath out of me. And for a second, I thought, “Maybe this is the end.”

But then— a shift.

Suddenly, everything felt light. Warm.

I opened my eyes.

There it was— a field of green.

The breeze rose to meet me. I lay down. The ground was soft, inviting even.

The sun was warm on my skin, the wind fresh on my face. Birds were singing.

And for once, I didn’t mind.

I had never felt this kind of peace. This kind of quiet.

I want to savor this spring. I want to keep it safe.

There’s no need to overthink. Not now.

For now, I’ll just live.

She’s one of the fiercest warriors. She’s seen every war.

While others her age are still figuring life out, She’s out there— Working her ass off, Swallowing the bitterness life keeps pouring in.

She moves without pause, Dreaming of a life without pain, Wishing, just once, For everything to stop.

She’s been stabbed, Left to bleed, And now— She’s just looking for a place to rest. To finally lay it all down.

I want a relationship where I can breathe— where my silence is understood, my softness is honored, and my emotions are never “too much.”

I am no longer chasing comfort from the past or attention that comes with confusion. I release the pattern of being chosen only when someone else is let go. I am no one’s second option—I am enough on my own.

I will protect my peace above all. I will not trade my healing for temporary affection. I choose people who make me feel light, not conflicted.

From today, I choose me—gently, firmly, and with full compassion.

Looking up, unsure of what's ahead,

I held your hands as you held mine.

I felt warmth, It felt safe.

I felt stronger, I felt valued.

I learned what love should look like, I learned I was worthy of love.

Then, it started to get cold.

I realized I was moving forward, No longer holding your hands.

I cried my heart out— No! This is not what I asked for, Not what I dreamt of, Not what I wanted.

I want you beside me. But… is this what I need?

I realized, it doesn't matter how much I want something.

Something broke.

I started to collapse, Feeling nothing.

I felt numb, Lying on the ground, Wishing to turn back time.

I wear on my third finger a ring, "Chieko."

It means "a thousand blessings."

I don't bear a child who brings this gift;

I am the child with a thousand blessings.

I thought,

At last, I have a family to call my own,

At last, I have a place where I belong,

At last, I have the haven I always wished for.

"Nooo!" I cried,

As I woke up from the trance.

I thought it was real,

I felt the security,

I felt the care and genuineness,

But I think it's not for me.