Priuu✨

I am the prize.

I am the constant.

self-respect is not holding back.

Boundaries are not half-love.

you can memorize someone’s laugh, habits, small things but people aren’t static. They evolve, shed layers, build new ones. Sometimes they outgrow the version you loved. Sometimes you outgrow them.

It’s kinda tragic “knowing someone” feels permanent, but in reality, it’s just knowing who they were at that time. Love, friendship, even family they all shift with time and circumstance.

But here’s the beautiful side of it if people can change, that means you can too. You can re-meet them, or yourself, again and again.

Anyone can talk about their fav songs or what they wore last weekend, but tell me why you love that song what memory it ties to, what it healed, what it broke. That’s where the real intimacy lives.

convenient choices keep you comfy, safe, predictable. But intentional choices? they’re uncomfortable as hell, but they move you. They’re like little acts of rebellion against your old self.

We don’t learn love in theory we inherit it from how we were treated, what we craved, what broke us, what healed us. Like if someone’s love felt unsafe or unpredictable, we start confusing anxiety with passion. If it was calm and kind, we see safety as love.

It’s wild how our mouths go on autopilot for small talk, jokes, and random nonsense but when it’s something real? like “I miss you,” “I’m scared,” or “I love you but I don’t trust you”? suddenly our throat turns into concrete.

Important things carry weight. They risk rejection, change, vulnerability so saying them means surrendering control. But meaningless things? they’re like filler noise safe, disposable, no emotional stakes.

When we don't understand someone, we fall in love with them. Tbh, there’s something kinda hauntingly true about that. Like when we don’t fully understand someone, they become a mystery, and mystery is magnetic. Our brain fills in the gaps with imagination, fantasy, what we wish they were. That illusion feels like love sometimes.

But when we do understand them like really see the mess, the patterns, the soft spots, the ego it either strengthens the love into something real, or it shatters it completely. So yeah, love born from misunderstanding is that dreamy, poetic, slightly delusional kind the one that feels cinematic but can crumble when reality kicks in.

i think i’ve outgrown feelings.

like i’ve cried so much in silence that now even pain feels quiet.

there’s no tears left, just this weird emptiness sitting in my chest.

i suppress everything till it dies inside me.

maybe that’s why nothing hurts anymore.