inysworld

[inysworld]

She is ME

people tell her to speak more, to speak louder, to express her thoughts. "a mute. that child is a mute."

She is not a mute.

She learned to not speak her mind when all everyone around her do is dissect where her journey went wrong. When did she fell from the top to the bottom. When did she became ordinary.

Every single time, they always conclude that it is her fault. That she is not enough.

She hasn't tried hard enough. She isn't dedicated enough. She didn't gave enough. Never whole, there is always something missing and she is the one that lost it despite all the warnings to hold on to everything.

a single grain of sand trying to hold back the crashing waves that come at her with fingers pointing and cruel words. a single grain of sand cannot do anything, so she stopped trying to change them.

she is not a mute.

She was a child that learned to build a shell around her body and mind so she cannot be hurt anymore.

[inysworld]

"Have You Eaten?" – A Love Language Unspoken

(Sometimes, it’s as simple—and as sacred—as asking, "Have you eaten?")

Happy Reading

The tension hung thick in the air as he snapped, his voice rougher than he intended. "Why do you always ask if I've eaten? Why are you always so obsessed with food?"

She stood frozen for a moment, her hands clutching the hem of her sweater. Her eyes darted to the floor, to the wall, to anywhere but him. Tears threatened to spill, but she blinked them back, not out of fear of him, but of the weight of his frustration. She stayed quiet, offering no defense, just a nod as though she deserved his words.

Dinner was quiet that night. He muttered a soft apology at some point, but she waved it off with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Later, as they lay side by side in the dark, the silence between them felt like a third presence in the room. The glow of the bedside lamp cast a soft halo over her face, and he turned his head to watch her. The crease of sadness lingered on her brow, even though her lips curved in a faint, forced smile.

"Why do you ask so much?" he asked again, this time his voice gentle, barely above a whisper.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as though she was steadying herself before plunging into icy water. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket as she began to speak. "I ask... because it’s the only way I know how to show I care," she said softly, her voice trembling. "My relationship with food—it’s broken. Always has been."

He shifted closer to her, his brow furrowing, but he didn’t interrupt.

"When I was a child," she continued, "food wasn’t just food. It was a battlefield. If I ate too much, I was called fat. If I didn’t eat enough, I was ungrateful. Asking for food outside of the house was forbidden—it made them angry. They thought it was about money, but it wasn’t."

Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek, glistening in the dim light. He reached out instinctively, his hand finding hers beneath the covers, squeezing gently.

"When I grew up, they told me I didn’t need to ask anymore. ‘It’s your house,’ they’d say. ‘Just eat.’ But how could I? How could I, when every bite felt like a reminder that I was too much or not enough?"

Her tears fell freely now, and she turned her head away, embarrassed by her vulnerability. But he was already pulling her into his arms, holding her close as though he could piece her back together with his embrace.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I didn’t know."

Her tears soaked into his shirt as she buried her face in his chest, and he felt his own eyes sting with emotion. He held her tighter, his hand gently stroking her hair.

"I’ll never complain again," he whispered against her temple. "If that’s how you show you care, then ask me every day. Ask me every hour. I’ll answer you a thousand times, as long as it means I get to hear your voice."

Her sobs quieted, replaced by the soft rhythm of her breathing as she melted into his embrace. He pressed his lips to her forehead, silently vowing to never let his frustration overshadow the love she poured into even the simplest of questions.

And as they lay there, tangled together under the weight of unspoken emotions and newfound understanding, he realized that sometimes, love isn’t loud or extravagant.

[inysworld]

Who else can relate?

you think you know pain and then it’s 2 AM and you’re on your 6th chapter re-write and there is no coffee left in the house and you have deleted 50k words that weren’t even that bad now that you think of it and your back hurts your neck hurts your brain hurts but you keep going BECAUSE YOU ARE A DAMN WRITER

[inysworld]

"Does It Still Hurt?"

(In relationships, comfort often comes in the smallest, softest gestures. Here’s a story of love wrapped in care, where even the simplest moments become the most profound:)

Happy Reading

"Does it still hurt?" he asked softly, his fingers brushing away the stray hair clinging to her damp forehead. She groaned weakly, clutching her stomach as her body curled into itself. His heart clenched at her discomfort.

"Why didn’t you tell me the pasta had cheese, hmm?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, laden with both pain and guilt.

He sighed, his hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her back. "I didn’t know, sweetheart," he murmured, guilt laced in his tone. "But I’ve got you now. Just breathe, okay?" She nodded feebly, leaning into his touch, her head resting on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat brought her a semblance of calm.

"Should I make you some ginger tea?" he offered, his voice low, filled with care. She shook her head, pressing closer to him, her face buried in the crook of his neck. "Don’t leave," she mumbled, her fingers clutching his shirt as if he’d disappear if she let go.

"Never," he promised, pulling her tighter into his embrace. He adjusted the blanket around her, ensuring she was cocooned in warmth. His hand rested on her stomach, steady and protective. "You’re always so stubborn," he teased gently, a faint smile curving his lips. "But I love you for it."

She hummed faintly in response, too tired to do anything more. His fingers trailed soothing patterns along her side, lulling her into relaxation. "Sleep, baby," he whispered, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "I’ve got you. Always."

The tension in her body eased as his words wrapped around her like a promise, and soon, she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, safe in the haven of his arms.