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🆗️‌: post #115 — TG.ME

🆗️‌@O2l7o · 1 subscribers Open in TelegramOpen

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August 21, 2026 31

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to the one I still wait for‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ I don't have anything beautiful to tell you this time, and maybe that is better, because if you were here you would probably laugh at me for trying to turn every feeling into something poetic when the truth is much simpler than that: I miss you, and I don't know what to do with it. I miss you when I wake up, I miss you when something funny happens and my first thought is to tell you, I miss you when I see someone wearing your kind of jacket, when I hear a laugh that almost sounds like yours, when the evening gets quiet and there is no reason for me to keep pretending that I am not still waiting for something that cannot happen. I wish I could say that I have gotten used to you being gone, but I haven't. I have only gotten better at carrying the feeling without letting anyone see how heavy it is. sometimes I imagine that you are going to come back, and I hate myself a little for it because I know better, but hope has never been very interested in what I know. I imagine hearing your footsteps, seeing your face, hearing you say my name as though all this time between us was only a misunderstanding, and in those moments I don't ask for anything else from life. I don't need another year with you or some impossible second chance; I just want one ordinary hour, one hour where I don't have to remember that you are dead, where I can sit beside you and talk about nothing, where I can look at you without trying to memorize you because I don't know if I will ever see you again. I think that is what I miss most, the ordinary things I never thought I would lose. your hand finding mine without thinking, the way you occupied the space beside me, the little sounds you made when you were tired, the comfort of knowing that somewhere in the world there was a person who knew me completely and still chose to stay. I didn't understand how precious that was until it became something I could only remember. and I wish I could tell you that I am okay, but I don't want to lie to you. I'm living. I'm laughing sometimes. I'm getting through my days. but there is still a place inside me that keeps looking for you, and I don't think it will ever stop. I hope you knew how loved you were. i hope, wherever you are, you still know. for dear : همسر بچه‌ژاپن 64·Aug 21 to the one I never learned how to stop loving‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ I wish I could tell you that I am angry, that losing you made me resent you for leaving me here with all these words and nowhere to put them, but every time I try, all that comes out is how much I miss you, and perhaps that is the most humiliating thing about loving someone after they are gone. I still remember you in the quietest moments, when the room is dark and there is no one around to see my face change, and I let myself miss you then, because I still have a little pride left and I refuse to let the world know how often my heart reaches for someone it can never touch again. I hope you knew how much I loved you, even when I was too stubborn to say it properly, even when I pretended I didn't care because caring that much frightened me, because you were the only person who could make me feel so completely seen and so completely vulnerable at the same time. I would give almost anything for one more conversation with you, but I won't beg the silence to answer me, and I won't pretend I am not angry that you left me with a love that has nowhere to go. so I will carry it quietly. I will keep your memory somewhere no one can reach, and I will let myself smile when I remember the good things, even if there is an ache underneath every smile, because loving you was never something I wanted to be ashamed of. You were mine for a while, and I was yours, and maybe that should be enough to make peace with the fact that I cannot have you anymore. I still love you. I just won't let you know how much. for dear : بچه‌ژاپن 50·Aug 21 to the one I still carry quietly‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ I think you would be surprised to see me now, because I know you always thought I would fall apart without you, and for a while I thought so too, but somehow the days kept arriving and I kept waking up to meet them, making breakfast, answering messages, laughing at stupid things, going outside when the weather is nice, and pretending I don't notice the little ache that follows me through all of it like a shadow I have learned not to turn around and look at. I still miss you, more than I know how to say, but I have stopped believing that missing you means I have to stop living. sometimes I laugh and immediately feel guilty, because there was a time when happiness felt like something I had no right to touch after losing you, but then I remember that you would have hated that, you would have told me to stop making everything so heavy and go enjoy the day, so I do. I watch sunsets, I buy flowers, I listen to songs you would have made fun of, and sometimes I find myself smiling so genuinely that I almost forget you are gone until that familiar ache returns somewhere beneath my ribs, quiet but unmistakable, reminding me that there will always be a part of every beautiful thing I experience that I wish I could have shared with you. I don't think I will ever stop wondering what you would think of the person I am becoming, and perhaps that is okay, because I still talk to you in my head when something wonderful happens, still save little stories for you, still look toward the empty space beside me when I have something important to say. I am living, though, truly living, and I hope wherever you are, that makes you happy, because loving you taught me that a life can continue after loss without becoming a life that forgets. so I am going to keep going. I will keep laughing too loudly, keep making plans, keep meeting people, keep finding reasons to wake up excited about tomorrow, and I will carry you with me through all of it, not as a wound I have to keep touching, but as a quiet part of my heart that will always remember how lucky I was to have loved you at all. I miss you. i probably always will. for deer : @deeriediary 187·Aug 21 to you, somewhere between the trees‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ i came into the jungle because I thought I needed to be somewhere you had never been, somewhere untouched by the rooms we shared and the streets that still remember our footsteps, but somehow you are here too, or at least I keep finding pieces of you everywhere I look; in the movement of the leaves, in the damp air against my skin, in the distant sound of water moving through the dark, and every time a branch breaks somewhere behind me I turn around with my heart already reaching for you, convinced that this time it will really be you standing there, smiling at me as though I have only been gone for an afternoon. I have been crying so much that I don't know when I started, and now the tears feel almost ordinary, running down my face while I sit beneath these enormous trees with mud on my hands and your name caught somewhere in my throat. I keep talking to you because the silence here is too large to bear, telling you about the birds I can't name, the rain that came down so suddenly, the strange flowers growing beside the path, and sometimes I swear you answer me, not with words exactly, but with the rustling above me or the sound of footsteps disappearing into the undergrowth, and I know I should understand that it is only the jungle, only wind and water and my own exhausted mind trying desperately to put you somewhere I can still reach you. but then the sun comes through the leaves in exactly the way you used to love, and for one impossible moment I see your face between the branches, so clear that I forget how to breathe, and I start walking toward you before I remember that you are gone, that there is no version of this world where you are waiting for me at the end of the path. Still, I follow the shape of you deeper into the trees, crying your name like if I say it enough times the jungle might finally give you back, and perhaps that is what I have become now, someone wandering through a world that keeps changing around them, looking for a person who exists only in the places where love has refused to leave. tonight I will sit here until the rain comes again, and if I hear you beside me, I think I will let myself believe it, just for a little while, because I am tired of being the only one who knows that you are gone, and for one night I would rather be foolish enough to believe that when the leaves move behind me, it is you coming home. for dear : @urcadence 31·Aug 21 to the one the sea still reminds me of‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ i came here again today, to the same stretch of shore where we used to sit until our clothes smelled like salt and your hair became impossible to untangle, and I watched the waves come in with the same careless rhythm they had when you were alive, as though the ocean never noticed that one of the people who loved it was no longer here to see it. I used to think there was something comforting about the sea, how it could hold so much and still look endless, but now I only find it cruel, because everything keeps moving here, the water, the clouds, the people walking along the shore, while I am still standing in the exact place where I lost you. I brought your sweater with me today, though I don't know why, because it doesn't smell like you anymore and I have washed it so many times that I have probably erased the last trace of you without meaning to. Still, I held it against my chest when the wind became cold, and for a moment I remembered how you used to complain about the weather and then refuse to leave, insisting that the cold made the ocean look prettier. I wanted to laugh when I remembered that, but the sound never made it out, and I stood there with your sweater in my hands wondering how something as simple as a memory could hurt more than any goodbye. I think I finally understand why I keep coming back here; it isn't because I expect to find you, and it isn't because I believe the sea kept some part of you for me, it is only because this is the last place where I remember being completely happy with you, before I knew that happiness could become something you mourn instead of something you return to. so I will sit here until the sun disappears, and I will let the water erase our footprints as it always did, pretending that somewhere beneath all that endless blue, the world has kept a version of us that time cannot reach, a version where you are still beside me, complaining about the cold, laughing at my silence, and asking me why I keep looking at you as though I am afraid you might disappear. I wish I had known to answer you. for dear : @Tavishgirl 40·Aug 21

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