I’m scared — no, it’s not a phobia.
It’s not chromophobia, ophidiophobia, or aerophobia.
It’s not heights, spiders, or the fear of flying.
If my favorite, closest person asked me,
“What’s your phobia? Are you diagnosed with something?”
I would laugh —
because I don’t have any of those.
But deep down, I’m scared of something else.
Deep down, I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up
and we’ll be strangers,
with no stories behind us.
I can’t live without your attention anymore.
Even if you’re not with me right now,
be sure of this —
you can’t, you can’t, be with someone else.
Because I know you love me.
And be sure that I love you just as much.
But I’m scared that one day our fairytale
will turn into a nightmare,
like every story eventually ends.
You are different.
Different from everyone else — I swear.
But don’t break my heart,
because I love you.
I love you so much.
I wish this fear —
the one I don’t even know how to name —
would be erased one day,
fade with time.
And maybe, years from now,
I’ll thank you
for curing me
of this unnamed phobia.
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 9:27 AM UTC
Every night, if it felt as if the world was ending,
as if the night held an anger strong enough to end our lives,
here stands the moon.
In winter — the season of sadness and regret —
here stands the moon.
In summer — the season of love and desire —
here stands the moon.
In autumn — the quiet anger after summer —
here stands the moon.
In spring — the warmth that follows winter —
here stands the moon.
So when I tell you you are my moon,
never doubt the purity of my love.
Jan 6
Jan 6, 2026 at 5:44 AM UTC
If I showed my younger self who I am now,
she would believe I died years ago.
She would ask me about my friends—the ones I was most attached to.
I would tell her they’re gone.
She would ask about the Barbies and Playmobil I used to play with for hours.
I would say they’re gone too.
She would cry, because she promised herself she would always take care of them,
and that promise faded with time.
She would ask where the little girl is—the one who swore to her mother in the kitchen that she would never change her favorite color,
the one who couldn’t understand how her mom didn’t take the job of choosing it seriously.
I would tell her she’s gone as well.
She would ask about the hobbies I promised to win championships with.
Gone.
She would ask why I stopped practicing piano.
My eyes would water as I told her that my serious dream of becoming a pianist is gone too.
My younger self would cry, seeing that I became a girl who no longer believes in fairytales.
She would ask me about my charming prince—the one I used to talk about,
the one I told my childhood friend only existed in fairytales.
And I would tell her we still haven’t crossed paths.
But this…
this is not gone yet.
Jan 6
Jan 6, 2026 at 5:28 AM UTC
The days go by, but they don’t count
I struggle so much just to live
Drunk
On this scent so different from yours
Worse
I counted every minute
That keeps me tied to her
As if I were my own prisoner
It’s been almost a year since she saved me
From you
Often I wonder where I’d be
Because of you
Often I wonder
What you’re doing, where you are, who you love
Get out of my thoughts
I changed my address, my number
Thanks
I threw away your letters and your flaws
Even if
I pretended I’d found the strength
Deep down inside me
I keep all the love you gave me
I try to forget you with someone else
Who vainly tries to make up for your mistakes
I try, but nothing works
I can’t, I don’t want to, I just can’t do it
I don’t love her like I loved you
She—
She tried to comfort me
Even if
She doesn’t have your words or your past
It’s true
But she doesn’t have your taste
For parties, for the night, for others
For everything I hate
She dried all my tears, you know
She picked up the pieces you broke
And she paid all
Your unpaid debts, your lies, your erasures
Everything you left me
She loves me like a madwoman
She knows me by heart
She tells me “I love you”
Sometimes for hours
But she doesn’t carry your scent
Why
Do I breathe you in
While I’m in her arms?
Jan 5
Jan 5, 2026 at 4:22 PM UTC
“I miss you” is a phrase you send when you’re in a long‑distance relationship.
“I miss you” is something said after a long, tiring week when a couple hasn’t had time for each other.
But I swear, my “I miss you” is more painful.
The long‑distance couple will reunite one day, and here comes the sun after the storm.
The couple with a tough week will finally find time for each other.
I wish — deeply, from the bottom of my heart — that one day I could stop missing you.
You’re everywhere.
In my house, the kitchen reminds me of the day we cooked together.
In the living room, I’m reminded of all the movies we watched.
My room only reminds me of how much we talked, how much we shared.
I just can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you.
I miss you everywhere.
I want to feel your touch again.
I need us to talk just by looking at each other again.
The brush of your lips against my skin still lives in my memory.
What if we never travel across Europe like you promised me?
What if every promise you made slowly fades, forgotten?
I need to love the fairytale again.
Please — let me believe in it one more time.
Jan 5
Jan 5, 2026 at 2:05 PM UTC
4 years old, counting the days till Christmas Eve,
doubting myself if I was a good girl,
and if Santa would give me the present I drew in the letter.
The tree stood for happiness, just for me.
My heart was so pure of love.
He equaled the simplicity of happiness in life.
7 years old, still counting the days till Christmas Eve,
but this time I didn’t believe in Santa anymore.
I believed that Jesus would gift me under the tree
on the morning of Christmas Day.
This time, I wrote and drew the letter myself —
I was the mature one who knew how to write perfectly.
I remember this Christmas:
my younger sister and I fought over who would put the star on the tree,
the final touch.
While fighting, I remembered that Mom told me
this is called the “love season,”
and I let my sister put the star.
9 years old, still counting the days till Christmas Eve.
I stopped believing in all these stories,
but acted like I did,
because I didn’t want to ruin the magic for my siblings.
I still wrote letters, and now I helped my siblings
do their own.
Everything felt more magical day after day, night after night.
The Christmas tree held bigger dreams than ever.
This time, it didn’t even suggest putting the star,
because it was their turn to believe in Christmas more than me.
12 years old, still counting the days till Christmas Eve.
This time, it wasn’t a Barbie I wanted, or a toy —
I wanted real makeup.
Just by looking at the crib,
every failure could be erased,
and broken things could still be renewed.
This year, I wanted my dog to be in the Christmas family photo,
and I was sad because I couldn’t let him believe in all the magic of the season.
This Christmas Eve was different —
it was the first day of my period.
I had stopped believing in Santa at this age,
but I believed that my period was the gift.
Here’s a toast to the end of the road:
the end of Christmas as a kid
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 11:21 AM UTC
Love?
Is it love, power over each other, or is power love?
Being obsessed with each other — is that love?
Gaining all this power over me…
I think you hate it when I look into your eyes,
but you’re obsessed with watching me,
with me knowing, from far.
You’re playing.
Let me be a gamer who isn’t taking everything deep,
because I can’t stop overthinking the mess I am in.
No, you’re not part of the mess,
because you’re playing —
not with your feelings, but with mine.
You’re the player.
You’re the gamer.
You’re everything I want.
The one I want next to me in everything.
Why?
Why can’t we stop depending on each other?
Why can’t I erase you from the deeply rooted part of my mind,
my heart, my everything?
You can act like you don’t care.
Maybe — maybe I was acting like this too,
but enough lying to myself anymore.
Please,
why are we lying to each other?
All I want is to be next to you,
to envelop me with your arms.
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 10:42 AM UTC
Is he mine?
He knows from my eyes that there something wrong .
He search for my eyes *** he's craving something and I search for his two.
We switch moods together if I am okay he is ,if I'm not his isnt either .
We can feel each other
We can talk more than million word just while looking at each other.
Is he mine?
When I'm sad all I need is just his eyes to look after mine
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 10:34 AM UTC
I hate you but my heart disagree ,your the most selfish person that I know your the poisin that i sip knowing every drop will hurt for a while, even when I'm burning of disapoiment I ask for more from you .you really look poisoning tall ,dark fluffy hair, These watering mid close eyes that mean the eternity to Me today and from from a while. I think I'm drowning to deep to decide if my heart for you beat from love or disgust and hates .I'm stucked between. To walls with no door to run away .
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 10:29 AM UTC
I once believed in endless days, but time has taught me something else, saw u in my dreams, but when I woke up nthg left behind, just the shadow of the idea of being with u. I hate myself for believing we could be together as one person. I hate where my heart took me. what did I think ? what did I tell my friend about u? I will never hate dreams . I will never hate my thought but I should've realised from the beginning that it was just a dream and just thoughts .
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 10:25 AM UTC