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hannah-48
I used to dream of hearing it. “I miss you.” “I’m thinking about you.” Simple words. But I built entire worlds around them. I thought if they came everything would make sense. That I would know I mattered. Now they’ve arrived. Months after I wanted them to. And I don’t know what to do. Because the truth is, I miss her. But not the her she is now. I miss the version of us that disappeared long before I left. I miss the way we laughed. The way silence wasn’t heavy. The way I could just exist next to her and feel safe. When we were still together, I was already grieving. I felt the distance before miles separated us. Now, across the country my ache feels louder. But also quieter. Which almost hurts more. Her message lit something in me. Hope. Sadness. Confusion. It’s what I begged for in my head so many nights. And now, when I am finally learning to loosen my grip it shows up. She shows up. Almost like she doesn’t want me to forget her. But I know I need to. I don’t know how to feel. Part of me wants to cling. Part of me wants to shut the door. I want her to miss me. I want her to remember. But I also hate that I want that. I don’t want to keep carrying this. I don’t want to need her anymore. I don’t want to live in memories of who we were. When I could be making memories with someone new. Still, I can’t deny it. I haven’t seen her in months, and it feels like forever. I want her arms around me. One more hug, just to remember what it feels like. What she smells like. But I can’t go back. I can’t stay in that place. I thought I was moving forward. I thought I was healing. Then came the words I always wanted. And now they sit in my chest, heavy, hollow, and confusing. I miss her. But I don’t want to. I think of her. But I don’t want to. I want to forget. But part of me still reaches. I don’t want to miss her anymore. But I think I’m too far gone. It’s too late.
0
Oct 27, 2025
Oct 27, 2025 at 7:16 PM UTC
Too Late?
I used to dream of hearing it. “I miss you.” “I’m thinking about you.” Simple words. But I built entire worlds around them. I thought if they came everything would make sense. That I would know I mattered. Now they’ve arrived. Months after I wanted them to. And I don’t know what to do. Because the truth is, I miss her. But not the her she is now. I miss the version of us that disappeared long before I left. I miss the way we laughed. The way silence wasn’t heavy. The way I could just exist next to her and feel safe. When we were still together, I was already grieving. I felt the distance before miles separated us. Now, across the country my ache feels louder. But also quieter. Which almost hurts more. Her message lit something in me. Hope. Sadness. Confusion. It’s what I begged for in my head so many nights. And now, when I am finally learning to loosen my grip it shows up. She shows up. Almost like she doesn’t want me to forget her. But I know I need to. I don’t know how to feel. Part of me wants to cling. Part of me wants to shut the door. I want her to miss me. I want her to remember. But I also hate that I want that. I don’t want to keep carrying this. I don’t want to need her anymore. I don’t want to live in memories of who we were. When I could be making memories with someone new. Still, I can’t deny it. I haven’t seen her in months, and it feels like forever. I want her arms around me. One more hug, just to remember what it feels like. What she smells like. But I can’t go back. I can’t stay in that place. I thought I was moving forward. I thought I was healing. Then came the words I always wanted. And now they sit in my chest, heavy, hollow, and confusing. I miss her. But I don’t want to. I think of her. But I don’t want to. I want to forget. But part of me still reaches. I don’t want to miss her anymore. But I think I’m too far gone. It’s too late.
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59
i didn’t know it would change. not like this. not slowly. not without a moment to hold onto. you laughed. it made me feel safe. alive, even. that kind of light doesn’t happen often. and I chased it. all I wanted to do was make you laugh. now it’s quieter. your name shows up less. you don’t ask to see me. you wait for me to reach out. and even then, it’s different. you say “maybe” to us hanging out. like i’m the last person you want to be with. i used to be in your bed. i used to feel okay there. like nothing could break me as long as you were near. now i’m a little lost. a little cold. a little too aware of the space beside me. between us. maybe i used you. not on purpose. but to feel whole. to feel wanted. to feel like i could breathe. that wasn’t fair to you. i know that now. but i still miss you. i still check my phone. still wonder what you’re doing. still remember how your presence softened everything. i’m adjusting. some days are easier. some days are still heavy. but i’m learning to sit with it. i want more. not as much as you’d think. just a little more. even now. even if i shouldn’t. even if you don’t. and maybe just missing you has to be enough. I don’t see another way out. you totally caught my attention. and now, i fear how hard it will be to get it back.
0
Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 12:42 PM UTC
You
I walk up the steps. Slowly, savoring the peace that fills the air. The door stays unlocked. Everything looks the same- untouched. The air is warm. Still. It feels like home. I sit down. It is everything I wanted. Peace falls in through the windows. I can feel the sun on my face. Then I remember. This place isn’t real. It doesn’t exist. I never built it. I never lived here. I’ve never felt real peace like that. I stay longer than I mean to. Each time, it’s harder to leave. Safety without questions or emotions. Like I never had to earn any of it. It only shows when I close my eyes. It only holds me in silence. No one else knows. But I know the walls aren’t real. I only built it because I needed somewhere to go. I stay a little longer. I let it hold me anyways. Not knowing the next time I will feel this again. Even if it is fake. Then I open my eyes. And try to carry the warmth with me. Even if the house isn’t real. Even if the peace is fake. And still- When I close my eyes, it’s the only place that’s home. Leaving gets harder. The ache lasts longer. But I always leave. Because I have to. Because this house won’t follow me. Because dreams aren’t real. It’s too dangerous to stay in dreams. Even if it’s the only time I’ve felt peace. It wasn’t real. And it never will be. The warmth fades. I carry what I can. Now I’m cold. Alone. No safety, no peace. Even if it was fake, I still had it. Some part of me always stays behind. That part is hope. Hope only exists in my dreams. I have to let it go in order to leave. Some dreams live just to be visited.
0
Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 12:35 PM UTC
Dangerous Dreams
I walk up the steps. Slowly, savoring the peace that fills the air. The door stays unlocked. Everything looks the same- untouched. The air is warm. Still. It feels like home. I sit down. It is everything I wanted. Peace falls in through the windows. I can feel the sun on my face. Then I remember. This place isn’t real. It doesn’t exist. I never built it. I never lived here. I’ve never felt real peace like that. I stay longer than I mean to. Each time, it’s harder to leave. Safety without questions or emotions. Like I never had to earn any of it. It only shows when I close my eyes. It only holds me in silence. No one else knows. But I know the walls aren’t real. I only built it because I needed somewhere to go. I stay a little longer. I let it hold me anyways. Not knowing the next time I will feel this again. Even if it is fake. Then I open my eyes. And try to carry the warmth with me. Even if the house isn’t real. Even if the peace is fake. And still- When I close my eyes, it’s the only place that’s home. Leaving gets harder. The ache lasts longer. But I always leave. Because I have to. Because this house won’t follow me. Because dreams aren’t real. It’s too dangerous to stay in dreams. Even if it’s the only time I’ve felt peace. It wasn’t real. And it never will be. The warmth fades. I carry what I can. Now I’m cold. Alone. No safety, no peace. Even if it was fake, I still had it. Some part of me always stays behind. That part is hope. Hope only exists in my dreams. I have to let it go in order to leave. Some dreams live just to be visited.
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