|June 6, 2025|
Title: "The Drink I Never Got to Give You"
Today, I saw you again.
You and her.
It wasnāt planned. I wasnāt prepared. I had even bought you a drink ā a small, silly gesture I thought might bridge the silence between us. I donāt know what I was thinking. Maybe I just missed how things used to be. Maybe I hoped you'd smile, say thank you, maybe⦠just see me again.
But then she appeared, and suddenly I felt invisible. Like I didnāt belong in that moment. Like I was trespassing in a space that once held our conversations, our energy ā and now held hers.
So I walked past you both. No drink. No words. No āhey, how are you?ā Just silence.
And in that silence, I felt the ache of every memory we ever shared.
You used to message me back. You used to smile when you saw me.
Now weāre strangers. We share a contact list but not a connection. You react to my statuses like weāre still something, but in real life⦠Iām just a face in the crowd to you.
And I hate that I still hoped today.
I hate that some small, stubborn part of me still believes youāll wake up and choose me.
That I still want to be chosen ā by someone who already made his choice.
I know I should let go.
I know I should stop wondering what I did wrong, or why she was enough when I wasnāt.
But letting go of you feels like letting go of something unfinished, like Iām trying to grieve a story that never even got its ending.
Still⦠I showed up for myself today.
Even when it hurt.
Even when I had to pretend it didnāt.
And thatās something.
Maybe one day, Iāll stop writing letters youāll never read.
But for now, Iāll keep pouring my heart out ā
not for you,
but for me.
ā Me š¤


















