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[calnote]

My happiest day

My happiest day

                  Recently, I came across a clip on TikTok from Maid where the main character, Alex, reads aloud to her class about what her happiest day would be like. She said her happiest day hadn’t come yet, but one day it would. She imagined taking her daughter on a hiking trail, reaching the Missouri sign, and telling her that the "M" at the top of the mountain was for her—Maddie. That moment stuck with me. It made me wonder—what would my happiest day look like? I’ve pictured it a million times in my head, playing out every detail, but I can’t help but ask myself: Would I actually feel happy when I got there? Or would I feel empty, like I had been chasing something that never really existed in the first place?

As humans, we convince ourselves that we know exactly what we want. We say, I need this. I have to see that. If I just get there, I’ll be happy. But when we finally achieve it, sometimes it feels... insignificant. Like the moment we’ve longed for is just another fleeting checkpoint on an endless journey. Maybe happiness isn’t about reaching a single moment. Maybe it’s not something waiting for us in the future—it’s something we have to find in the now.

                  Sometimes, when I’m alone in my room, I stare at the ceiling and imagine what it would feel like to truly see the world—to make friends, to belong. It’s strange to think about people caring for me because, for so long, I’ve felt insignificant, like I was just passing through life unnoticed. I dream about standing on the beaches of Brazil, feeling the waves crash at my feet. I wonder what it would be like to breathe in the atmosphere of the Santiago Bernabéu in Madrid, surrounded by the electric energy of the crowd. I think about what it would feel like to experience warmth—not just from the sun, but from someone who genuinely cares. I want to see the world. But does the world want to see me? I don’t know.

I’m young, and I know I have so much ahead of me. People always say, You have time. You have your whole life ahead of you. But that phrase terrifies me. Because being young doesn’t mean I’ll be young forever. Time moves forward whether I’m ready or not, and I’m scared of wasting it on the wrong people. All my life, I had time—but I gave it to people who never valued it. And I don’t want to make that mistake again.

                  My mom told me I had to live for myself. So did my friend Eva. And they’re right—because if I don’t, who will? So, I guess my happiest day would be the day I get my freedom back. The day I finally have the courage to pick up my school bag, board a plane, and tell myself, You can go anywhere you want to go. A day where I don’t have to look back, don’t have to endure the daily grind of a company that drains me, don’t have to work a job I have no passion for. A day where I can build a home—not something extravagant, not something big, just a place where I feel comfortable, where I finally belong. I’ve never asked for much in life. I never wanted luxury or excess. I only ever asked for the bare minimum—to feel connected, to have friendships that didn’t make me feel invisible. But instead, I got silence. I got distance. And sometimes, I wonder: Why am I even here? Every day, I learn a new lesson about the world we live in. It’s cold, indifferent. But there has to be beauty, too, doesn’t there? If someone like me exists—someone who still dreams, still hopes, still believes—then surely there must be others out there like me. Others who want more than just small talk and empty words. Others who long for real connection, real kindness, real generosity. Why does it feel so rare? Why does it feel like the world has forgotten how to care?

                  My talk with Cristina made me realize—why can’t there be more people like her and Eva? People who genuinely want to talk to me, not out of obligation, but because they care. I know real friendships are rare, but why does it always feel so one-sided for me? Everywhere I go, I try to connect, but I end up feeling more isolated. People say, you just must find your people. But what if I never do? What if I spend my whole life searching and still end up alone? My best friend is my laptop, and that thought lingers in my mind more youhang out with in person. Their surprise always catches me off guard. Cristina has asked me that before, just like others have, and every time, it stops me in my tracks. I used to want to make friends, to meet people, to feel like I belonged somewhere—but somewhere along the way, I stopped enjoying the search. Because friendship always feels like a one-way street. No matter how much I give, I rarely feel like anyone is reaching back for me. And I don’t think it will ever satisfy me.I guess I’m scared of the future, wondering if it will be kind to me. I don’t want to be alone, but is it worth humiliating myself just for a little comfort? Some days, I don’t even feel like a person. I feel like I’m treated more like an AI—expected to function, to respond, but not to feel. I know, sometimes, I need to stand up for myself, to be mean if that’s what it takes. But do I have the strength to do it?

                  "I've worked tirelessly all my life, never once complaining when I'm at work. I stay quiet, focus on what needs to be done, and get it done with everything I’ve got. But no matter how hard I try, there are always people who find reasons to criticize me, and I can’t help but wonder, what did I do wrong? It hurts because I’ve given my all, only for others to tear me down over the smallest things. I let them go on, not wanting to escalate things, but deep down, I’m crushed. Their complaints feel so unjust. When I’m cleaning, they should be focusing on their own responsibilities, not nitpicking mine. But I refuse to be intimidated by their petty threats. I know my worth, and I do my job well, quietly, without ever raising my voice. I was raised to handle my problems without complaint, to be strong and push through no matter the challenge. And in my eyes, these people—these coworkers—are just soft, whining and complaining over things that don’t matter. A real man knows how to stand tall and keep working, even when life tries to bring him down, just like I’ve always done."

                  Recently, I've been thinking about turning a new page in my life, but I won’t lie, there’s fear holding me back. Still, I see this as a sign that it’s time for a change, a better opportunity. How can I keep pouring my energy into a place that doesn’t value me? How can I keep showing up when every step in that door feels like I’m giving pieces of myself to a place that doesn’t care? How can I stay somewhere when I don’t even trust the people I’m working with? They want me now, when I’ve given everything, I’ve had, and only when I threaten to walk away, suddenly they beg me to stay. That says so much about them, and so little about me. I’ve been kind, I’ve put in my time—four years of my life—and yet, in the blink of an eye, I could wake up tomorrow and realize I've wasted a decade of my life on something that didn’t fulfill me. I don’t want to keep living like that, in this endless cycle of doubt and regret. I need change. I need to find something that makes me feel alive, that makes me feel like my time is being spent on something meaningful. Lately, more than anything, I’ve realized it’s time to let go, to take that step into the unknown and trust that something better is waiting for me."

                  I don’t know why I’m rambling—maybe because deep down, I don’t really have anyone who truly cares. Maybe I’m afraid that if I reach out, I’ll just be a burden. These are answers I don’t know, questions I’ve asked myself a million times: What is wrong with me? Maybe I don’t value my own existence the way others do. Maybe I just don’t fit the mold. It’s frustrating—this constant feeling of not being enough, of not belonging. I know I can’t force things; I know connections aren’t easy for me, but how do you even form one? How do people just… fit into each other’s lives so effortlessly? Why can’t I be valued the way others are? I don’t know. Every morning, I wake up feeling half-dead, but my dreams push me out of bed. I wash my face, put on my headphones, and lose myself in music—pretending, for just a little while, that I’m the only person in the world. Pretending that I don’t exist, because maybe that’s easier. And then I step off that bus, take a deep breath, and try my best—because that’s all I have left to give.

                  yesterday, I was honest with myself—I’m afraid. And sometimes, I just don’t know what to do. Will I fail the nursing exam? Will I not get into nursing school? These questions haunt me, echoing in my mind repeatedly. But isn’t that why I made the sacrifices I did? So I wouldn’t have to live in this fear? I want to be a great nurse—more than anyone could ever know. But there’s always so much information, and no matter how hard I try, I feel like I’m falling behind. Still, I know one thing with absolute certainty—I don’t want to do anything else. Nursing is all I have; all I’ve ever truly wanted. And I will chase this dream until the very end. I don’t want to bring anyone along for this journey anymore. I’ve given too much of myself away, stretched myself thin trying to hold onto people who were never meant to stay. The truth is, people only want to be there when you’ve made it, when the struggle is over. But I can’t offer that. I have nothing left to give—nothing but my time, my energy, my heart. And maybe that’s not enough for most people, and that’s okay. I’m ready to walk away from people who only care about appearances, about status, about things that don’t matter to me. Maybe it’s childish to see the world this way, but this is how I choose to see it—because I don’t need money to be happy. I don’t need to pretend to be someone I’m not just to be accepted. And you know what? I’m proud of who I am. I can look in the mirror and say, I’m not like the rest. My intentions are pure, whether people choose to see it or not. And at the end of the day, that’s what matters.

                  Today, I’m stepping into something new—a nursing event. And if I’m being honest, I’m nervous. Maybe because, in some small way, I’m finally choosing myself. That’s a scary thing for anyone, isn’t it? It feels unfamiliar, almost foreign, like I don’t even know how to live for myself. But I’m a person too… so why does it feel so strange? Maybe this is a good first step. Maybe this is growth. But still, I can’t shake the thoughts in my mind. How do we go from caring about someone to feeling nothing at all? Do we truly value human life, or are people just inherently selfish? I don’t know—I don’t think I ever will. Every person I’ve spoken to seems lost in their own world, consumed by themselves. When I was a kid, I used to wonder what would happen if I gave people a real chance. Would my life be better? Would I feel less alone? But now that I’m trying, I see the truth—it is a different world… just not the one I hoped for. It’s colder, more disappointing. People tell me all the time that my biggest flaw is my kindness, that I’m too soft, too forgiving, that I overlook the darkness in others. But why is kindness a weakness? Why is it something to be taken advantage of? It’s funny—the same people who complain about how cruel the world is are the ones who manipulate the kindness they’re given. They cry about how unfair life is, but when someone reaches out a hand, they use it, drain it, discard it.Is there a balance? Or are people really as destructive as God said in the Bible? If I could ask Him just one question, I’d ask: Why has the most painful, most destructive thing in my life always been other humans? Why do we, no matter how far we evolve, always revert to our most primal, selfish nature?"

                  "Every time I walk through Soho, I can’t help but notice how plastic everything feels—how people move in a way that seems so curated, so manufactured, like they’re all part of some grand illusion. They think they’re different, rebellious even, but somehow, they all look the same. And I ask myself—is that really living? Or am I just the one standing outside the bubble, watching everyone else float in it? Maybe I just don’t like society. Maybe I was never meant to fit into it. I don’t know. I always hear people talk about their 'happy place,' and I guess that’s what I’ve been searching for too. I know I won’t find it today, or tomorrow, or maybe even this year… but is it wrong to keep looking? To hope that somewhere out there, a place like that exists for me. I don’t know. What I do know is this—I don’t want to fake who I am. I don’t want to conform. I have thoughts, ideas, a mind of my own. Life is too short to live on a leash, to follow a path that was never mine to begin with. More than anything, I just want to be happy. And when I think about what happiness means to me, it’s simple. It’s waking up in the morning and feeling safe. It’s looking in the mirror and liking the person staring back at me. It’s walking down the street with a genuine smile on my face, not just one I’ve forced for the sake of appearances. It’s looking down at my phone and seeing messages from people who truly want to talk to me—not out of obligation, not out of convenience, but because they care. That’s my happy place. And maybe I haven’t found it yet, but I won’t stop looking.

[calnote]

“I wrote for you.

I wrote because you loved to lose yourself in stories,

Because you longed to step into new worlds,

To see yourself within the pages.

So I created one just for you,

A world built with my words,

A universe shaped by my love.

But you never entered it.

You never even turned the first page.

Because in the end, you never really cared.

And the story I wrote for you

Remains unopened, forgotten—just like me.”

[calnote]

“I was too weak to admit I was right.

Too blind to see my own worth.

Too broken to recognize how badly you treated me.

Too lost to realize that while I was drowning in pain,

You were in someone else’s arms.

But I am not that person anymore.

I am stronger now.

And for the first time—I love myself.”

[calnote]

“I felt like a caged bird, trembling in fear,

Trapped, wings clipped, longing for the sky.

I never dared to dream of freedom—

Until one day, I saw it.

The door had been open all along.

So I spread my wings and soared,

Feeling the wind embrace me,

The fresh air filling my lungs like a forgotten dream.

And in that moment, I understood—

The bird was me.

I was never truly trapped,

Just too afraid to fly.

But now, I am free from the cage you built for me.”

[calnote]

What next for me

Lately, I’ve found myself asking an important question: Is it better to have loved and lost, or never to have loved at all? For a long time, I believed I had someone who genuinely cared for me, but now, I find myself questioning that belief. Why do we sometimes treat each other with such cruelty? I thought we could at least part as mature adults, supporting each other in our individual journeys. Yet, I’m beginning to wonder if that was ever truly in your heart. Despite everything, I will always hold respect for you, even when that respect was not returned.

Maria, I loved every part of you—both the good and the bad. I accepted you fully, because I genuinely cared about you as a person. But now, the person you’ve become is unrecognizable to me. I don’t know what changed, but the warmth I once felt from you has been replaced with coldness. The one-word responses and your focus solely on yourself made me question if this is really the person I once loved. The Maria I knew would never have treated me this way. My memories of you will always remain pure, even if your actions no longer reflect the person I once cherished.

You were my first love, and you taught me what it meant to care for someone else. You gave me a reason to live, and for that, I will always be grateful. I was truly happy to be with you. But now, I find myself facing the reality of life without you—a reality that, honestly, feels like my worst nightmare. It’s hard to come to terms with, but it’s the reality I must now accept.

The timing of all this, so close to my birthday, felt especially hurtful. I don’t know what your intentions were, nor can I claim to understand what you were thinking. I’m not a psychic or a god. But I do hope, deep down, that I still have a place in your heart, even if I no longer have a place in your life. As I told you before, I will always be around, no matter where life leads you. Yet now, I find that I must focus on my own well-being, because it feels as if you discarded me as though I meant nothing to you.

I’m uncertain about what the future holds. I’m not sure if it will be bright, but I hope it’s at least good. I still have dreams I want to achieve—dreams of building a family, of growing old with the people I love. I hope to meet a woman who isn’t afraid to fight for love, who can proudly call me her man, boyfriend, and future husband. I know I have a lot to offer, and I’m determined to pursue my career in nursing, helping others and becoming the strong, compassionate person I’ve always hoped to be.

This year, I’ve met many people who have had a profound impact on my life. I’m genuinely grateful for these new connections, and I hope these bonds will last. For the first time, I feel like I’ve found true friendships—people I can trust and talk to. I no longer feel as isolated as I once did, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come. There was a time when I believed my future was bleak, and I even questioned my own worth, thinking I didn’t deserve love. But this year has shown me that I’ve been too hard on myself. I never truly saw my own value. Now, I’m learning to appreciate who I am, because I’ve realized that many people love and care about me, and I am deeply grateful for that.

Moving forward, I’m choosing to live for myself. I can no longer afford to stay stuck in the past. I have my own aspirations—dreams of love, travel, and family. I want to experience life fully, to have children, and to show them the love they deserve. Above all, I want to be a strong, supportive role model for those who need it. This year has taught me many lessons, but the most important one is that love can be fleeting. One day you might have it, and the next, it may be gone. I hope I never take that lesson for granted again.

As for the future, I don’t know what plans God has in store for me, but I trust that His plans are meant to guide me to a brighter path. I hope that, over time, I can better understand myself and what love means to me. I know that everyone defines love differently, but I hope that one day, I will find someone whose definition of love aligns with mine—someone who is there for me through our worst moments, who offers love and affection freely, and who cherishes every second we spend together.

[calnote]

​​​"Drowning in My Own Ocean"

If I can be honest with myself, sometimes I feel like I just don’t belong here. I don't know, maybe there's something wrong with me—some invisible aura I give off that repels people. I always thought being genuine was the key to connection, but now it feels like I’ve been playing a game where I’ve shown my hand too early. I’ve laid out my truth, and in return, it feels like I've been discarded. Who cares about my past, who I am, or what I give when, at the end of the day, if I don’t have what someone needs, I’m nothing but expendable.

This feeling, this heavy weight in my chest, it’s not new. I’ve always felt it, but only now have I fully realized what it means. I’ve come to understand just how selfish human nature really is. We pour our hearts into others, giving them our undivided attention when they’re lost, when they need someone to listen, someone to help. But when it’s our turn, when we just need the same care, the same support, we’re met with nothing but indifference. It’s as if our struggles, our pain, are an inconvenience. It’s okay when we sacrifice our time for others, but when we need someone, they can’t even spare a minute. And it’s exhausting. I’m tired of this. Tired of being too weak to stand up for myself, tired of feeling wrong for wanting to stand my ground. I shouldn’t feel invalid in my own life.

I’ve spent so much time trying to fix my circle, trying to make it tight, trying to make it real. But now, I just want it even smaller. I want it to be something I can trust, something that won’t let me down, because right now it feels like all I've ever done is give pieces of myself away to people who don’t value it.

When I was broken, when I was drowning in my own sorrow, a few people did care—and for that, I’m grateful. But when I turned to those I once helped, when I needed guidance, my plea went unheard. And honestly, I deserved that feeling, because I let it happen. I thought I was stronger, thought I had figured it all out, thought I had fixed my problems myself. But in reality, I was only making them worse. I was my own worst enemy, silently watching as I self-destructed. I was drowning in an ocean of my own pain, a pain I kept creating, a storm I kept feeding. And what for? For someone who didn’t even care enough to notice, someone who never loved me the way I deserved to be loved.

I kept falling for the empty promises, the words without substance, because all I ever wanted was to feel loved, to feel safe, to know that my efforts meant something. I wanted to know that I was enough, that I was a good man, a good partner. But looking back, I did everything I could to love her. I wasn’t perfect, but I tried. I made mistakes, but I corrected them, immediately, so they wouldn’t happen again. But it was never enough. My stories, my time, my availability—none of it mattered. In the end, I was just another chapter in her life that she would close. She’ll find someone else, and I’ll fade into the background, never truly important.

​And when she chose to stay, it wasn’t because she truly wanted to, but because she was afraid of losing me. She was afraid of me leaving her, of being alone, and that hurt more than anything. I wanted to believe her love was real, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just a safety net—something to hold onto when everything else felt uncertain. I loved her, but I couldn’t respect that fear-driven attachment. It wasn’t real love if it was bound by that kind of fear. In the end, I wasn’t her priority, not really. And that was the final lesson I needed to learn.

I’m tired, honestly. I’m tired of wasting my time, tired of giving everything and getting nothing in return. I just want to finish my degree, leave this place, and figure out what’s out there for me. Maybe I’ll find somewhere warm, somewhere quiet, where I can just be with myself for a while. I’m tired of drowning while everyone else is too busy to throw me a lifeline. I’ve given so much of myself, but all I’ve gotten is emptiness in return. Nobody notices, nobody asks how I’m doing. Nobody calls to check on me—am I okay?—because they don’t care. I care for everyone, but who cares for me?

I wonder what the next chapter will bring. Will I just be someone’s puppet, falling for sweet words again, desperate for love, desperate for validation? Will I be hard on myself, blaming myself for everything? Or will I learn to be a better friend to myself? I don’t know. But I’m determined to find out.

When I graduate, when I pack my bags and leave this city—this city that once felt like home but hasn’t felt like that in a long time—I wonder what it will feel like. Will I be scared to fly for the first time, or will I feel free? Maybe I’ll finally be able to let go of all my pain, all my grief, all my disappointment. Maybe I’ll leave it all behind and find peace in my own company. Maybe I’ll find the love I’ve always dreamed of, but maybe a person like me doesn’t deserve that. Maybe my happy ending is one of solitude, with just me and my thoughts, in a house filled only with my own presence. And you know what? I’ll be okay with that. Because trusting others sometimes feels like too much. I used to believe in love, wholeheartedly, but I’m not sure anyone believes in it the same way anymore.

So when the day finally comes for me to leave, I hope I can smile, and I hope I can find peace within myself. I’m tired of being hurt, tired of being manipulated. I can’t say it will never happen again. We’re human, and we need each other, and sometimes that leaves us open to being hurt. But maybe, just maybe, I won’t care as much. Maybe my heart will be a little thicker, a little stronger. Maybe I’ll finally stop waiting for others and start living for myself.

I’m not ready for love right now. Not yet. But one day, I’ll move on from this pain. It will take time. It will take a lot of time. But I’ll get there. Because in the end, the only person I can truly rely on is me.

[calnote]

​​Our final night

Every beat of my aching heart screams that I should let go of the past, but how can I when memories of you flood my mind like a relentless tide? Through the fog of illness and searing pain, your face was my only clarity. Now, in the deafening silence of your absence, songs like Billie Eilish's "Birds of a Feather" and Bruno Mars' "Die with a Smile" shatter me completely, each note a reminder of what we've lost. Maybe deep in my soul, I knew asking your parents was a dream too fragile to hold, but God, I wanted to try. You weren't just someone I loved – you were my everything, holding my heart so completely in your hands that a single word from you could either heal or break me.

Those late-night calls while I worked still haunt me. Your voice, trembling with tears, confessing your fears of losing me, professing your love like a desperate prayer. I can still hear the way your words caught in your throat, "I'm scared to lose you." And there I was, frozen, desperate to promise you the world but knowing I couldn't. All I could do was ask you to tell me again how we met, listening to your breathing slow into sleep while my heart screamed all the words I couldn't say. In those quiet moments, I would pray, tears falling silently, thanking God for every precious second with you, even as I felt you slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

The guilt consumes me, even now. Every mistake plays on repeat in my mind, a torturous symphony of "what-ifs." You told me it wasn't my fault, but how can I forgive myself for not being stronger, wiser, better? When you asked if I'd kept my promises – controlling my wild emotions, honoring your faith – your "yes" was both a blessing and a curse. And then you whispered those words that still pierce my soul: "Sometimes I wonder if it would've been better if we never met." But how could I ever regret you? You're still the only future I see when I close my eyes, the only dream that makes my heart race with possibility.

December 5th, 7 PM – time stands still in my memory. Your call at work, an hour that felt like seconds. My confession, raw and vulnerable: "I just want to come home to you. I'm so tired... all I want is to rest my head in your lap and sleep." Your response about our different faiths felt like a knife to my heart, but I would have moved mountains to bridge that gap. I promised to embrace Christianity, to shed anything that separated us. That night, kneeling until my knees ached, I begged God for a sign. When my sink pipe burst, I felt it in my soul – a sign of change, of hope, of possibility.

Those final precious days... I remember every detail like a film playing in slow motion. Your face lighting up as I shared Bible stories – Noah's eternal faith, Adam and Eve's profound love, Abraham and Sarah's unwavering trust. Your smile, God, your smile when you saw me trying. Our last night together, I couldn't bear to waste a single moment on work. Money meant nothing compared to one more hour with you.

That final phone call at 9 PM... my heart breaking as I asked questions I already knew would hurt: "Was I a bad boyfriend? Did I mistreat you? After seeing all of me – the good, the bad, the broken parts – do you still want me?" Your "yes" was both healing and heartbreaking. I poured out my soul: "If your mom ever blesses us, I want to read the Bible with you, find God together, make you my wife – Maria De Duarda De Almeria De Olivera – and build our family." We fell asleep together one last time, not knowing it was goodbye.

Even after you left, I kept my promise. Sixty chapters of the Bible in four days, my eyes burning but my heart determined. That brief five-minute call during your vacation – your whispered "I miss you" before your mother entered the room – plays in my mind like a bittersweet lullaby. Then December 16th came, the day my world stopped turning. Your mother's "no" wasn't just a word – it was the end of everything we'd dreamed of.

Our love story lives in every detail: the late-night conversations that felt like sharing secrets with the stars, your tears that I wanted to kiss away, the stories about your friends that made me feel part of your world. Even if you tried to make our ending quick and clean, I know you felt it too – the rare and precious thing we shared. Maybe someday you'll remember how special our love was, and we'll find our way back to those dreams: growing old together, exploring Switzerland, building a home filled with laughter and love. I don't need fancy cars or jewelry – I just need that simple, beautiful life with you, where we can fight and make up, love and forgive, until we're old and gray, still holding hands and thanking God we found our way back to each other.

[calnote]

A World I Can’t Understand"

Sometimes, I feel like there’s something I’m missing—like there’s a part of me that just isn’t… human enough. Maybe it’s my inability to truly understand human emotion, or maybe it’s my struggle to be cold in a world that feels so heartless. I can’t shake the question: Why am I here? What is my purpose? I don’t know why, but there’s a part of me that just can’t connect.

I’ve always been the quiet one, the kid who kept to himself, stuck in my own head, unsure of what the next thought would be. I overthink everything, trying so hard to see what’s ahead, but in doing so, I miss what’s right in front of me. I failed to see my own shortcomings—both as a man and as a person. I failed to see that I wasn’t good at making connections. I wasn’t good at loving someone because how could I, a person who doesn’t fully understand human nature, possibly love someone the way they deserve?

When I did love, I thought I finally found something that could make sense of the chaos inside me. I felt safe. For the first time, I believed that even when I failed, or when I wasn’t enough, I would still have someone waiting for me at the end of the day. Someone to tell me, You didn’t fail because you have us. I would have been more than happy, more than grateful, because I knew how rare that kind of love is. But life didn’t have that plan for me. God didn’t have that plan for me. Instead, He taught me a painful, heartless lesson: The love you give will never be the love you receive. It will never come back the way you expect, no matter how much you pour into it.

That lesson left me shattered.

Being vulnerable, truly opening myself to someone else—it feels impossible now. I can’t imagine investing in someone else again. Not after that. I thought love could be built on care, honesty, and affection, but I learned that’s not enough. There are things you can’t control—like differences in belief, the way people view the world. Is it wrong to believe in the goodness of people, even if we don’t all share the same faith? I don’t think it is, but I learned that what I believe doesn’t matter. Once judgment has been passed, it’s hard to change it. People stop thinking for themselves, and they start listening to what others say.

A month later, I realized that everything I thought would be, wasn’t. It wasn’t the safety I craved, not the love I had imagined. At first, I felt it—the connection, the warmth of a smile. But deep down, I knew. I knew she had stopped caring, and I was too scared to face the truth. It crushed me. I cried, because that was my greatest failure. My biggest disappointment in myself. I tried to fix it—I tried so hard to fix it. I wanted to be the man who made things right, the one who could make her smile again, to make her feel safe. But it didn’t matter. We went our separate ways.

When New Year’s came, that’s when it hit me—the brutal truth of how little I really mattered. She could post a happy New Year’s message for everyone, smile and laugh in front of others—but she couldn’t even take a moment to send me a simple message. Happy New Year. It broke me.

I thought I could be the person anyone could lean on, the one who could always make them feel loved and comfortable. But after that day, I realized no one cared. I sat there, alone, heart heavy with the weight of it all, but somehow, I forced myself to sleep. I wanted to bury the sadness, bury the feeling of being so utterly forgotten.

I don’t want to be toxic. I don’t want to be bitter. I want to be better. I want to grow from this, to show that despite the pain, I can still rise above it. But I don’t think I can invest in anyone right now. I thought it would be different, but it’s not. It’s a different kind of pain—one that makes you question everything. It makes you question your worth, your character, your decisions. It makes you wonder if anything you’ve ever felt was real.

Even with friendships, you think you’ve found someone you can always trust, someone who makes you feel safe, like you can be yourself. But then, they leave. They get tired of you. You’re boring. You’re not enough. And it all makes sense now—I’m living in a world full of people I can’t understand.

People say, It’s just life. But for me, life isn’t just this. I can’t exist in a world where I have to fake my emotions. That’s the one thing I can’t do. I don’t have the heart to lie or hurt others. I just want to live in a world where love is real—where affection isn’t something you have to question, where people can truly see you for who you are and still choose to love you.

[calnote]

​​​​"The Closure I Never Wanted"

The closure I’ve gotten, I suppose, is the only closure I’ll ever have. I can’t deny it—I used to hold onto the hope that maybe, not now, but later, I might see you again. That’s why I kept my distance, why I didn’t reach out as much. I wanted to let time, and maybe even God, work things out. But the answer you gave me, the one you delivered with so much cruelty, maybe that’s what I needed all along. It’s painful to admit, but it showed me that I wasn’t as important to you as I thought. It broke my heart, but it was the truth.

I spent so much time wrapped in delusion, believing that maybe you’d miss me, that you were opening my messages just to see what I had to say. But the truth is, you told me, again and again, that you would never take me back. And that hurt. Because I never did anything to deserve that—at least I don’t think I did.

I cried that night. I cried so much, like I haven’t in years. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so alone, so sad, with no one to turn to. I remember getting home, grabbing my pillow, and just breaking down. It was humiliating, honestly—I never imagined I’d be here, a grown man, reduced to tears. I thought I was done crying, that there were no more tears left, but I was wrong. The pain was still there, buried beneath the hard exterior I built to protect myself. I cried myself to sleep, and when I woke up, the sadness was still there. I asked myself, Am I the worst person ever? I couldn’t understand it. But my friends kept telling me, “This is the closure you need. You have to accept it.”

But I didn’t feel closure. I just felt like I was too much. Too much for you. Too much for anyone. I stayed home, stalking your page, trying to distract myself with anything, but it was pointless. The reality was, I felt like I was losing the person who meant the most to me. And when you blocked me on WhatsApp and unfollowed me on Instagram, it hit me. This wasn’t just about missing clarity or peace of mind—it was the harsh truth that I had been hurting myself more than I ever realized.

I tried to heal, but I wasn’t enough. If I had been the right person for you, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up here. I remember reading a quote that said, “We can try to change for someone, look like who they want, but at the end of the day, they’ll never choose us.” And it hit me: that’s the truth. Maybe, deep down, I wasn’t who you wanted. I know it, but I’m not ready to accept it.

I sometimes wish that God could have given me one last blessing—one last chance to be with you. But I guess my story just wasn’t meant to end that way. Still, there’s this regret that eats at me, and I just want to let the tears fall, to finally release everything I’ve been holding in. I wish I could hug that regret, tell it that even though we weren’t enough, even though our hearts weren’t valued the way we thought they would be, I loved you. I really did.

You were my other half. And I know that in this lifetime, I’ll never be with you again. I’ll never see you again, and that’s something I have to accept. But I wanted you to know—we loved you. We loved you more than anything. More than life itself.

If God gave me two options—one to have everything I ever wanted: money, a big house, jewelry—or one to spend just one lifetime with you, I’d choose the lifetime with you, no question. Because all I ever wanted was to be a family man, to lead a simple, peaceful life. To build a home, raise a family, and grow old with the people I love.

I hope one day, I can build that home—a place where my children can thrive, where my legacy can live on. Maybe that’s where the healing will start. But for now, all I can do is carry this love, this regret, and the hope that somehow, in some way, I’ll find peace.