I was just being myself.
that's all it ever was.
no hidden meanings,
no hearts being passed around,
just someone healing,
trying to stay kind.

I laughed in spaces that felt safe,
joked around in places where I thought
I was understood.
not everything was a signal.
not every word meant more than it said.

but people like to watch
and fill in the blanks
with their own versions of me.
it's easier that way,
to turn a person into a rumor
than to ask them how they really feel.

they said they respected my privacy,
but what do you call it
when you're left out of conversations
you didn't even know you were in?
when sarcasm starts to sound familiar,
and silence feels like a choice?

I explained myself once.
twice.
maybe more.
but no one ever asked again.
they just looked,
and decided.

and maybe this won't mean anything,
or maybe it'll sting a little,
if the shoe fits.

but if you ever wonder why I stopped trying,
it's because friendship shouldn't
feel like defending myself
in a room full of people
who once called me home.

It wasn't anything special,
just a way of showing up,
laughs a little too loud,
says things without weighing them,
because not everything
needs to mean something.

People watched from the edge,
turned moments into stories,
shared glances like headlines.
Suddenly, I was someone
they had figured out
without asking.

I've seen the way
quiet shifts in a room,
how sarcasm replaces names,
how people choose
what fits their version of you
and stick with it.

They said they cared,
said they respected distance,
but only when it made
enough sense to them.
Everything else?
Fair game for guessing.

So I stopped explaining.
Not out of pride,
just exhaustion.
Some truths aren't meant
to be repeated
just to be ignored again.

Not everything I do
is a secret message.
Some things are just me,
existing,
without needing
to be decoded.

If it looked a certain way,
it probably did,
to those watching
without context,
without asking,
but still certain they knew.

I’ve been okay lately.
Not perfect, but breathing.
The kind of healing where
you stop checking their profile,
but still hear their name in silence.

It’s not love anymore.
Not wanting them back.
Just… this quiet ache
that shows up
when the world slows down.

I miss the version of me
that existed when I thought
forever was real.
Not because of them,
but because I was softer.
Lighter.

Now, I walk steady.
I laugh without forcing it.
But some nights,
I still feel like junk left on the curb,
not because I still love them,
but because I remember what it felt like
to be someone’s home.

I came across a picture today,
a moment frozen, bright and full of life.
She was smiling—so effortlessly,
like the past never weighed her down.

She found her way, I see it now,
embracing all the things she left behind.
The hobbies she once set aside,
the laughter she forgot how to share—
they are hers again, and they shine.

But where does that leave me?
The one left behind, standing still,
watching from a distance,
realizing that I have nothing,
not even a place to start.

She rediscovered herself,
while I am still sifting through ruins,
searching for pieces of me
that I never thought I’d have to rebuild.

I was always a part of something,
tied to a life that no longer exists.
Now, I face the question I never dared ask:
Who am I, when I am only me?

The world moves forward, time doesn’t wait,
and I know I must start again.
But every step feels heavier,
every day feels longer,
and the path ahead is one I have to carve alone.

Maybe one day, I’ll understand.
Maybe one day, I’ll smile like that too.
But for now, I am just trying—
trying to begin from nothing.

The weight feels lighter as days go by,
A fragile peace grows in its place.
The pain, though present, starts to wane,
A quiet calm begins its trace.

Yet when the night wraps 'round my mind,
And silence reigns beneath the moon,
Her name still whispers through the dark,
A bittersweet and fleeting tune.

Her memory lingers in the still,
A shadow soft, yet sharp and clear.
Though I’ve convinced myself I’ve healed,
She finds a way to reappear.

Time gently works to mend the scars,
And hope is something I’ve begun,
But even now, her ghost remains,
A chapter that I can’t outrun.

I regret loving you,
Regret giving you my life,
Regret making you my world.
Regret knowing you.

I regret doing things for you,
I regret writing you poems too.
I regret believing in all you’d do,
I regret everything about you.

No, you wouldn’t change a single bit,
Not your words nor actions fit.
The same old ways, the same old game,
Nothing about you ever changed.

I wasted my years thinking you’re "The One,"
A mistake I wish could be undone.
Oh, how I wish to turn back time,
So our paths would never align.