THE WEIGHT YOU LEFT BEHIND

I never meant to say this out loud. But it’s been stuck inside me for too long.

I miss you.

And it’s so stupid because you’re probably out there, not even thinking about me. Living your life like I never existed. And yet here I am, carrying this weight like an idiot.

You weren’t supposed to do that to me. Not you. Not my best friend.

I didn’t need you to fix my problems. I didn’t even need you to like the person I fell for. I just needed you to stay. To have my back when the world felt too heavy. To tell me, “I don’t agree with you, but I’m still here.” That’s all I wanted.

But you chose to leave. You chose your ego. You chose to talk about me behind my back instead of talking to me. And the worst part is, even after all of it, even after knowing what you did, there’s this tiny, stupid part of me that still misses you.

I hate how the songs we used to listen to still remind me of you. I hate that I sometimes catch myself wishing you’d text. I hate that some days, I want to tell you random, pointless things, like what show I’m watching or what dumb thing has happened to me. And then I remember… you’re not that person anymore.

Or maybe you never were. Maybe I just made you better in my head because it felt nice to believe someone would always have my back.

People keep telling me to move on. That you’re not worth it. But what do I do with all this leftover love? Where do I put it?

It’s pathetic, isn’t it? Missing someone who chose to leave. Missing someone who didn’t even flinch while breaking me.

But yeah. It still hurts. And I don’t know why.

Comments

THE WOMEN BEHIND ME

Life isn't easy. There have been battles I had to fight every day—both in my mind and in real life. But I always had a person behind me, someone who pushed me forward no matter what. Even though she had a lot to face herself, she never let that stop her. Life wasn't easy for her either, but she always did her best to provide everything so I could enjoy mine. She never complained. Instead, she stood like a wall behind me—quiet but strong. No matter what she was going through, she made sure I had everything, to dream, and to live a little easier than she did. She is the kind of woman who would do anything for her children. Fight against the world? Yes, she would. Break barriers that stood in the way? Without hesitation. Give more than she had, stretch beyond her limits? Every single time. Her love had no conditions, and her sacrifices had no end. I’ve never seen someone as strong, selfless, and enduring as her. And I know I never will again. To say I’m grateful would ...

A SCHOOL THAT FELT LIKE HOME

People always talk about high school, but for me, it was my previous school, where I studied until 10th grade. I might be dramatic, but that place truly felt like my second home. I still remember sitting in the corner of the classroom with my friends, turning all the armchairs into a circle and sharing secrets, laughter, drama, and sometimes even tears. That corner witnessed so much of our childhood. We would get scolded for our hairstyles, for talking nonstop during class—but even the punishments have become stories we laugh about now. And the canteen—how could I ever forget it? That one veg roll we all loved, the way we’d run through the corridors and join the long queue, hoping to grab one before they sold out. Those little moments meant everything. Growing up has brought changes—new places, new people, and new challenges. But no matter how far I go, a part of me remains in those corridors, still laughs in that corner of the classroom, and still yearns for that one ...

THE FATHER I NEVER HAD

I often wonder what it feels like to have a father. I've seen kids run to their fathers with huge smiles on their faces, melting into their arms as they're warmly embraced. I've seen fathers waving at their children as they leave for school on the bus, waving until the bus disappears down the road. I've seen fathers doing everything they can just to see their children smile. I witness things like this every day, but I've never been lucky enough to experience them. I wonder if life would be different if I had a father like others do? Would he be my safe place in this chaotic world? Would I still be my father’s baby, no matter how old I grow? A part of me always aches when I see others happy with their fathers—not because I’m jealous, but because it’s something I could never have, no matter how much I long for it. Sometimes, I close my eyes and try to imagine what it would feel like to be held by him, even if just once. Maybe in another life, I’ll get the...

The Untold Stories

Search This Blog