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I missed it

The river inside me once surged with unyielding force its waters wild and restless, breaking through every dam I reacted with the fury of storms, with the tenderness of melting ice I was a flame that burned too bright, too loud, mad with feeling, dizzy with the chaos of love and pain Every moment was a tempest I trembled, I laughed, I wept without shame I lived inside the very edges of madness, because to feel less was unthinkable But that river has run dry not by choice, not by will, but by countless silences swallowed whole, by countless touches that never reached, by countless words that turned away The warmth was squeezed out slowly like light fading through cracked glass and what remains is the cold stillness of stone There is no longer a storm inside me, no eruption, no thunder, even the smallest joys fall like rain on dust, unable to awaken what has been sealed away Love too has become a ghost, a distant echo barely remembered, not because it was lost but because it was never tr...
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Me, myself and I

Me, myself and I


 I am so tired of being myself. I am weary of carrying this weight that is called 'me.' If I can’t love myself, how could anyone else? People meet me and think I’m beautiful, witty, intelligent, perfect, even. But isn’t perfection a lie we tell ourselves? If I were truly perfect, why do I feel so incomplete, so inadequate? There’s always something missing. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know it’s there, haunting me like a forgotten word at the tip of my tongue. And why, why won’t anyone fight for me? Those who say they love me, they lie so easily. They abandon me so effortlessly, as if I am nothing but a passing thought. At the first sign of trouble, they vanish. I don’t understand it.There are people in this world who are loved so beautifully, so wholly, and I see them and envy them. I have loved others with all the fullness I could muster, but I’ve never been the one on the receiving end of it. Never the one who is cherished. I am always the one left behind, the one who isn’t enough.I don’t want to be incomplete anymore. I don’t want to be the one who falls short. I don’t want to hear meaningless reassurances about how good I am, only for them to become a fleeting echo as someone walks away. I don’t even want love anymore. What good is love if it is so fragile, so fleeting? Perhaps love exists, but not for me. Or perhaps I shouldn’t exist at all.I feel like a threshold, a gateway, like the soul of a forgotten train station. Trains come and go, some pause for a moment, but they all leave eventually. Some don’t even bother stopping. I am left standing there, alone, a ghost with no purpose, no destination. I cannot see my future. I cannot imagine myself as someone who is loved, as someone who belongs to someone else. Marriage, a family, a home they are not dreams but impossibilities. I cannot even imagine being loved, truly loved. I will never be that person. No one will ever fight for me.And yet, I cannot imagine myself alone either. My future is a blur, a hazy, fading image, like an old memory that dissolves into dust the harder I try to hold onto it. I cannot even love myself how could anyone else? And if no one else can, then what is the point of all this, of me? I stand here, in this in between place, waiting for a train that will never come.

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