idk i just write

I think I just don’t want to feel alone anymore…

Someone who stands beside me

when the world feels loud and unknown.

Because why do they stare at me like that?

why do their eyes feel like questions I never asked?

I shrink in places I’m supposed to grow,

and smile through thoughts that cut too fast.

I want someone who notices…

not just when I shine,

but when I’m sitting in silence,

losing battles inside my mind.

Take me somewhere I don’t feel watched,

sit with me when I can’t breathe right,

hold my overthinking gently,

stay through my lowest night.

When I say I feel too much, too heavy,

tell me it’s just a passing phase,

when I doubt my skin, my face, myself,

look at me like I’m still worth praise.

I don’t want perfect love,

I just want it to be real…

a little protective, a little soft,

something I can finally feel.

Be there in my struggle, not just my glow,

choose me before I become someone to know.

Because I’m tired of being everything alone,

tired of searching for comfort I’ve never been shown.

So tell me…

am I just looking for someone

to quiet a loneliness

I used to think living

was simply staying alive…

Waking up.

Breathing.

Making it through another day…

But hearts do not grow

in empty rooms.

We become ourselves

through people.

Through the friend who stayed.

The stranger who was kind.

The person who left.

The person we still miss…

Every meeting leaves something behind.

A memory.

A lesson.

A scar.

A reason to keep going..

And isn’t that strange?

How pieces of other people

live quietly inside us.

The way we laugh.

The way we love.

The way we heal.

None of it was built alone.

So perhaps living

is not measured by years,

but by connections.

By every hand we held.

Every goodbye we survived.

Every heart that changed ours.

Because to live

is not merely to exist.

It is to leave a piece of yourself

in others,

and carry a piece of them

Some men in love

are not gentle at first glance.

They arrive like chaos

rough hands, tired eyes,

anger sitting heavily in their bones

like life taught them survival

before it ever taught them tenderness.

They do not know beautiful words.

They do not know polished love.

Most of them have spent their entire lives

mistaking endurance for worth.

But then they meet someone

quiet enough

to awaken the softness

they buried to survive.

And suddenly,

the man who once moved through life like a storm

begins remembering small things.

Your usual drink.

The silence you carry after losing someone.

The broken light in your shop.

The unsafe walk home you pretend does not scare you.

Some men in love

do not flirt beautifully.

They protect beautifully.

They stand beside you at funerals

without knowing how to comfort you properly.

They hold your grief carefully

like it belongs to them too.

Fix problems silently.

Work themselves exhausted

trying to build a future

they are secretly terrified they do not deserve.

And that is the devastating thing about them.

They love like they are running out of time.

Like devotion is something that must be proven.

Like if they give enough, sacrifice enough, endure enough….

maybe they will finally become worthy

of being chosen.

So they offer what they can:

a meal,

a ride home,

medicine at midnight,

their last bit of money,

their sleep,

their pride,

their entire being.

Not because they are weak.

But because loving someone

becomes the first peaceful thing

that has ever happened to them.

And when life turns cruel again,

they do something tragic.

They disappear quietly.

Because somewhere deep inside,

they still believe

love means protecting you

even from themselves.

That is what hurts the most.

Not that he loved her.

But that he loved her enough

to leave the life

he wanted most.

Some men in love

do not hold flowers.

They hold the weight of your sadness

until their own hands begin to shake.

And still….

they will ask if you ate,

if you got home safely,

if you are sleeping enough,

as if their own heart

they hurt, yet they heal.

They break you slowly,

little by little,

while teaching you how to survive.

A mother does this every day.

In quiet ways, in unseen ways,

she folds away her own dreams

to make space for someone else’s….

A little sleep sacrificed,

a little happiness delayed,

a little piece of herself

given again, and again, and again…

And somehow, she still smiles

like love has never cost her anything.

But it did.

It always did.

So today is not just a celebration of mothers

it is a celebration of every silent sacrifice

made with love.