I loved you
I loved the way you avoid me
I loved the way you see me as a mistake
I loved the way you act as if nothing happened
I loved the way you avoided that one last glance,
as you turn the corner without looking back at me.
I loved the way you think I am worthless
I loved the way you hate me
I loved the way you disgusted me
I loved the way you blocked me
I loved the way you finally moved on without me
I loved the way how you forgot about me
I could love me the way I loved you!
"We may feel weak and fragile in the face of past mistakes, regrets, or traumas. It's as if we are trapped in a web of our own making. Yet, it is the sole reason for what we are now. ❤️ Embrace it and let it go. Sometimes, we may regret why we did what we did, and sometimes, we are happy about it. If we think deeply, we can see it is just in our mind. If we think of the past as a joyful memory, it will be, and the contradiction is also true.
The past self of us has its own reasoning for what it did and why it did it. It may have failed to convince the present self of us, yet it did the right thing that it had to. We must forgive ourselves for those mistakes and try not to repeat them. We can't solve the same question with old wrong answers, isn't it? Sometimes, we feel vulnerable and victimized by ourselves and lock ourselves apart from the present. 'Oh, you did that. You've hurt them. How can you be happy?' and all. Let me tell you something: people make mistakes, and it should not define who you really are.
A bad impression on yourself by you is the obstacle you should overcome, and eventually, everything will fall into place.
Once upon a time in a bustling city, a young man strolled through its enchanting alleys, captivated by the beauty surrounding him. Yet, a troubling thought nagged at him – why had he been made human? He contemplated the notion of being a tree or a bird, yearning for the simplicity and kindness he perceived in nature.
The weight of human negativity and selfishness lingered in his mind, disrupting his sleep. Determined to unravel the true purpose of his existence, he embarked on a journey the next morning. Along the way, he witnessed an incident that would reshape his perspective.
A woman faced ill-treatment for not meeting societal standards of beauty. In a remarkable display of compassion, another woman confronted the offender, by pointing out the ugliness within. This courageous act left an indelible impression on the young man's heart.
Continuing his quest, he encountered a blind man struggling to cross a busy street. Wondering aloud about the challenges imposed by humanity on the visually impaired, the man explained that amidst the hustle, people had extended kindness by installing pedestrian signals. Gratitude welled up within the young man as he assisted the blind man to the other side.
Further along, he encountered a deaf man communicating through sign language. Curious about the potential mockery faced, the man revealed that those who cared had embraced sign language, demonstrating love and acceptance.
The young man's epiphany was profound. Life's essence rested in how one chose to spend their time. Shifting his focus from the cruelties to the kindness around him, he discovered a multitude of good-hearted individuals.
The story concludes with a powerful message: our perception shapes our reality. If we choose to see only the negative aspects of humanity, that is all we will witness. However, by embracing positivity, the young man unearthed a community of compassionate souls, reinforcing the belief that goodness prevails in the hearts of many.
And so, dear reader, let this tale serve as a gentle reminder – amid the challenges and complexities of life, never lose hope in humanity.
If we don't end up together, no need for sorrow,
Just smile, say hi, and greet me tomorrow.
In the street's hustle, a moment so sweet,
A cute little poem in a passing meet.
No demands for time, society's decree,
But with a simple "hi," our stories are set free.
A smile on your face, love in the air,
A sweet reminder that we used to care.
the hardest part
People often say it's tough to move on, but it's not the person that's hard to leave behind; it's the memories we built together that cling like stubborn shadows. It's like trying to untangle a knot – the memories are the knots, and breaking free is the real puzzle.
Our minds, like a tricky maze, replay all the bad stuff – the fights, the selfishness, the loneliness. Yet, when it's time to let go, suddenly, it throws in images of love and care, making it feel like leaving is a mistake.
In my view, patience is the key here. Moving on isn't a walk in the park; it's more like waiting for a plant to grow. Just like they say, "If you really want something, the universe will make it happen." So, if it's meant to be, it will be.
Think of it as trusting a plan bigger than ours. Whether you believe in God or just the magic of life, sometimes things work out better than we could have planned.
When you can't see a way forward, consider it as standing in front of a closed door. It might not open now, but it will surprise you when it does. The future might seem scary, but doubting yourself is even scarier.
Have faith that good things are waiting for you ahead. Embrace the memories, learn from them, and believe that moving on is like turning the page in a book – the story continues, and the best chapters might still be unwritten.
The person in the backstage
As a girl, I always believed that my dad would be my first and last hero, and he would always remain my favorite. However, I am not surprised to see him changing while my mom continues to be caring. She has always been in the background for her female children, and I wonder why.
We know her even before we know our dad. She loved us even before we were born. As I am growing up, I realize that it is my mom who tended to my wounds when I fell, consoled me during my failures, and stood by me even when I was in the wrong. She has always been my supporter, even though I broke her trust a million times.
My mom has been my hero from the beginning, and I feel regretful for being so blind to it. Why did I always support my dad in all the fights with my mom? Why did I tell everyone that my favorite was Dad? A mother is different. She loves all her children equally and will never remain silent with them, no matter how many mistakes they make.
The child in me never realized her love, but the grown-up me can't regret enough for not giving enough credit to my mom. She has always been in the backstage, waiting to hold me when I fall ,Thank you, Mom, for always being by my side. I won't let you down, and just for you, I will be the girl you want me to be.
I wondered how these days were unfolding without causing any hurt or pain. I lamely thought that this would be the happiest year of my life, filled with good days from the beginning. The modern world deceived me by convincing me that I was going to be different and become a new version of myself this year. Perhaps I believed some random Instagram post that said, "This year, all your wounds will heal."
Yes, I may not have delved into the harshness of life yet because I am still young, but this trailer of life's horrors is bringing me down through experience. People say, "You are too young to feel this!" Maybe the world has become too old to treat the young this poorly.
The partiality shown by loved ones hurts like a prick that continuously tears me apart. They say I am not like them, symbolizing they don't vibe with me. They can show me their worst face, but not to them because it'll sting them. But hurting me is fair game? Is it because I'm the odd one out? It's like God cursed them publicly and blessed them privately, while He cursed me quietly but showered blessings on me like confetti!
who am i?
Do I need to introduce myself? Or do you already know me. Because I don’t know myself. What I am ? am I a wind that blows in everywhere strive to find my place in the vast horizon?or am I a bird that had a flock once but now wandering in stray trying to find them? Or am I a mountain carrying all the baggage of others and have no feelings for myself? Or am I a flower releasing my scent in a bare land hoping that somebody would find me? Or maybe it’s possible I am a goldfish in a lonely lake. Isn’t it irony?
The emptiness of life finally found me and told who I am i?
I am a human with hard feelings about life ,questioning the existence of myself, failed to embrace the living and wailing in the past . I asked who made me like this?
It said it’s you and your mind and immediately I wondered and asked who made me think like this and the emptiness said the quest of you to find who are responsible than accepting your fault did this to you.