modern isolation

To feel every tension hanging in the air, to catch the slightest tremble in someone’s voice, glances that escape for a fraction of a second, smiles that never reach the eyes, hands revealing more than words ever could. Hundreds of details crashing into you all at once like rain no one else even seems to notice.

And the strangest part is that they truly believe they’re hiding it all. That they control their own performance. While the curtain has long since fallen, the masks crack one after another, and the play goes on — absurd, beautiful, and tragic at the same time.

I used to wonder what love really is. Most often, I imagined it as if the vastness of the ocean had suddenly fallen completely still. As if the wind had almost entirely disappeared, leaving behind only the gentlest breeze brushing against your face with unimaginable tenderness. A sky full of stars suspended above everything — hypnotizing in its depth, in a calm so immense it almost aches.

Without unnecessary noise. Without excessive light. Without chaos trying to drown out its own emptiness. No emotions fighting for attention, no fear of loss, no constant need to prove your worth.

Everything perfectly balanced. Quiet. Real.

And maybe that’s why, for so many years, I confused love with intensity. With storms that tear your heart out of your chest, with feelings so overwhelming they steal your breath away. But perhaps real love does not come to destroy you. It arrives like the ocean at night — calm, deep, and safe.

So safe that, for the first time, you are no longer afraid to reveal everything you carry inside yourself. That you can finally let your whole weight fall into someone’s presence and allow yourself to simply exist — peacefully, honestly, without the constant need to protect yourself.