shrutyarvind

[shrutyarvind]

Growing up in a household where love is absent and interactions are purely transactional leaves a child with an emotional deficit that shapes their entire outlook on life and relationships. When a family is simply a group of individuals coexisting under the same roof—eating meals from the same kitchen, performing daily routines together, but without warmth, affection, or emotional connection—it teaches a child that relationships are about duty, not love. They do not see examples of kindness, care, or emotional support, and so they either accept that love is not real or grow up yearning for something they have never known. This absence of love creates a wound that lingers throughout life, making it difficult to trust in the existence of genuine affection. As they grow older, they face a subconscious battle—either they repeat the cycle and become emotionally detached like the people who raised them, or they rebel against it, longing for love so deeply that it consumes them. Unfortunately, the latter path is far more painful because it means constantly searching for something that has always been out of reach. These individuals often become highly sensitive, absorbing emotions deeply and forming attachments quickly, as they are desperate for the love and security they never had. Their heightened emotional awareness makes them vulnerable to heartbreak and disappointment, but it also makes them compassionate and deeply understanding of others’ pain.

Because they never experienced consistent love, they develop an intense need for it, leading them to fall in love easily and see potential in people even when it is not truly there. Their desire for emotional connection can make them overlook red flags, stay in unhealthy relationships longer than they should, and even forgive people who have deeply hurt them. They feel empathy not just for those who deserve it, but also for those who have wronged them, often making excuses for their behavior because they understand pain so intimately. This deep emotional investment makes them prone to overthinking—analyzing every interaction, questioning if they said the right thing, wondering if they are loved or if they are simply tolerable. This overanalysis does not stem from a lack of trust in others, but rather from a fundamental fear that love is fleeting and conditional. Their constant need for reassurance may push away even those who genuinely care for them, creating a painful paradox where their longing for love becomes the very thing that drives people away. They try to change, to suppress their emotions, to convince themselves that they do not need validation, but it feels impossible. The need for love is not just a learned behavior—it is a fundamental part of their existence, woven into their thoughts, emotions, and interactions.

The greatest struggle for someone who grew up in an unloving household is the battle between wanting to be different from those who raised them and fearing that they will inevitably become the same. They do not want to be cold, distant, or selfish, yet they also do not want to be so open and vulnerable that they continue to get hurt. They question themselves constantly—how do you rewire your entire emotional foundation? How do you let go of the desperate craving for love when it has been your guiding force for as long as you can remember? This internal conflict can be exhausting, leaving them feeling lost between two extremes—either shutting themselves off from emotions or feeling everything too deeply. But despite the pain, these individuals possess something rare and beautiful: a heart that refuses to become numb. They love with an intensity that is both their greatest strength and their greatest struggle. And even though the world may not always be kind to those who feel so much, there is hope that one day, they will find the love they have always longed for—the kind that does not make them question their worth, the kind that does not require them to prove themselves, the kind that finally makes all the waiting, all the hurting, and all the hoping worth it.

[shrutyarvind]

When we meet someone with whom we feel deeply connected—someone who brings us peace in ways we did not even realize we were missing—it is both beautiful and terrifying. There is a comfort in finding a person who aligns with us mentally, physically, and emotionally, but that comfort is always accompanied by an undercurrent of fear. I tend to overthink, and before I can even fully embrace the connection, my mind is already racing with questions: How long will they stay? Will this feeling last? What if I wake up one day and realize that everything I cherished has slipped through my fingers? The uncertainty is unsettling because nothing in life is permanent, and no matter how much I may want to hold on, I know that people come and go. Some departures are gradual, some are abrupt, and some leave scars that never truly fade. I have always believed that everyone who enters our lives is there for a reason—whether to teach us something, to help us grow, or, as they say in anime, to contribute to our “character development.” But the truth is, most of these so-called character developments are unwanted. Growth is often painful, and life has a way of making even the simplest joys feel like they must be earned through struggle. Sometimes, I wish I could just exist in the happiness of the moment without the looming fear that it is temporary.

There are certain people I would love to keep in my life forever, and there are those whose lives I hope to be a part of in the same way. But is that even possible? Life is unpredictable, and relationships are constantly evolving. Some people fade away despite our best efforts, while others remain even when we least expect it. I do not want to become the person who clings too tightly, who suffocates something beautiful by fearing its loss before it even has a chance to flourish. At the same time, I do not want to be indifferent—I do not want to pretend that people are replaceable when they are not. I understand that it is my own burden, my own insecurity, that makes me question things before they have even begun. It is not fair to let my past experiences dictate every new relationship or friendship, and I know that. I do not want to constantly bring my fears into conversations, nor do I want to live in the shadow of past disappointments. It is easy to let old wounds shape our expectations, but I do not want to let them define my future. People are different, and every connection has its own unique story. Maybe, instead of assuming the worst, I should focus on appreciating the present for what it is.

I am trying. I am trying to have a more positive outlook, to trust that not everyone will leave, and that even if they do, it does not mean that the time spent together was meaningless. I want to reach a point where I do not second-guess every good thing that comes my way. I want to be able to stop in the middle of a walk and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, the way I used to when I did not carry the weight of these fears. There was a time when I lived more freely, when I did not question every good feeling, and I hope I can return to that version of myself. Maybe the key is not in trying to control who stays and who goes, but in learning to appreciate the moments we are given without letting the fear of loss overshadow them. People will come and go, but that does not mean that every connection is doomed from the start. Some people will stay longer than expected, and some may even stay for a lifetime. I do not know what the future holds, but I want to believe that there are still moments of peace, moments of love, and moments of pure, unfiltered happiness ahead of me. And when they come, I hope I will be able to embrace them fully—without fear, without doubt, and without hesitation.

[shrutyarvind]

Love is one of the most uncertain and terrifying things in life, and that uncertainty only grows when someone says, “I love you.” The phrase should bring comfort, yet it often stirs fear because love has never been a guarantee—it has never been enough to keep people from leaving. No matter how deeply two people claim to love each other, love alone has never been a safeguard against endings. If anything, love seems to magnify the pain when things fall apart. People who have loved each other can wound each other in ways no one else can because they know exactly where to strike. It is unsettling to think that the ones who once cherished you the most could also be the ones to cause you the greatest pain. The truth is, no matter how much love is involved, it is impossible to go through life without hurting or being hurt by others. The only difference is whether the hurt is unintentional or deliberate, and too often, people choose the latter. The ones you love the most are also the ones you make most vulnerable, and when things go wrong, that vulnerability turns into a weapon. They know the right words, the right silences, the exact places to press until something inside you breaks. Maybe, at some point, they did love you just as much as you loved them, but love does not always protect people from cruelty—it often makes it easier for them to be cruel.

Despite this, the idea of lifelong love is something I have not fully abandoned, though I have come close. I want to believe in love that stays, love that withstands the storms, love that does not waver when things become difficult. But I have seen love fade, even when it once burned brightly. I have seen people fight to hold on, only to realize that love was not enough to keep them together. It is exhausting to search for something that always seems to slip through my fingers, and at this point, I no longer wish to chase it. If love is meant to find me, I hope it does so in a way that does not demand my exhaustion, my desperation, my endless effort. I do not want love to feel like a war I have to keep fighting just to prove it is real. I just want peace—I want to be able to rest in love, not constantly fear its disappearance. But love, by its very nature, is unpredictable. There will always be misunderstandings, conflicts, moments where giving up seems easier than holding on. Even the strongest love is tested by time and circumstance. People drift apart not always because they stop loving each other, but because life makes it too difficult to stay. And that, more than anything, is what terrifies me. Not that love might never come, but that even if it does, it might not be strong enough to last.

Still, I hope. I hope that if love finds me, it will be gentle, that it will not ask me to bleed to prove its worth. I hope that if I love someone, I will not have to wonder if I am setting myself up for heartbreak. I hope that if someone tells me they love me, it will not be a prelude to goodbye. Love should not feel like something I have to brace myself against, something that comes with an expiration date. And yet, I know that no love is completely safe from the possibility of pain. All I can do is hope that, if I love and am loved in return, we will not choose to hurt each other. That we will not use our knowledge of each other as a weapon. That, no matter what happens, we will not abandon each other so easily. I do not expect perfection. I do not expect a love without flaws, without struggles, without moments of doubt. But I do hope for a love that is chosen, again and again, even when it is not easy. I hope that if I find love, or if love finds me, we will hold on to it with kindness, with patience, with a shared understanding that love is not just a feeling, but a choice. And I hope that, in the end, it will not break me.

[shrutyarvind]

Human beings, at their core, crave connection in the simplest and most unassuming ways. While grand gestures of love and friendship are often celebrated, it is the small, everyday moments that truly bind us to one another. There is something deeply comforting about having someone who will get up in the middle of the night to close the windows with us when it suddenly starts to rain, someone who will share in the little inconveniences of life without hesitation. We do not necessarily seek excitement or constant entertainment from our relationships; rather, we long for the presence of another person who simply chooses to exist alongside us. The warmth of companionship is often found in the mundane—drying dishes together after dinner, folding laundry side by side, or even just sitting in the same room while doing completely separate activities. It is not about the action itself but rather the quiet assurance that we are not alone in facing the monotony of daily life. In a world that can sometimes feel overwhelming and chaotic, having someone to share the simplest routines with can be one of the most profound sources of comfort and stability.

There is an unspoken joy in sharing trivial stories, in recounting how the elevator broke down or how a classmate is once again stirring up drama. These conversations may seem insignificant, but they serve as the threads that weave relationships together, creating a sense of belonging and understanding. We do not always need profound discussions or life-changing revelations to feel close to someone; often, it is in the silly, unremarkable exchanges that we feel most connected. There is something deeply human about wanting to be heard and wanting to hear someone else in return, no matter how ordinary the subject matter may be. We do not necessarily crave constant stimulation; we simply want to be acknowledged, to have our thoughts and experiences validated by another person. Whether it is sending a text about a minor inconvenience or laughing over an inside joke that has no real significance outside of the bond it represents, these small interactions remind us that we are part of something bigger than ourselves. It is in these quiet, easily overlooked moments that we find the truest forms of companionship.

At the end of the day, all we really want is to share our time and space with someone who understands the value of simply being together. We want a person who will sit with us in silence and share a meal, not because conversation is lacking, but because presence alone is enough. We want a companion for spontaneous late-night drives, someone who will walk beside us without needing a destination, just content in the shared experience. Life is not always thrilling or extraordinary, but there is a special kind of magic in being bored with someone else rather than being bored alone. It is not about filling the silence with words, but rather about finding comfort in the silence itself. We seek honesty, authenticity, and a connection that does not require constant effort to sustain. In a world that often pushes the idea that we need to be extraordinary to be worthy of attention, it is reassuring to realize that what we truly desire is often the most simple: someone to share the quiet moments, to laugh at the ordinary, and to be present with us in all the little, unremarkable parts of life that somehow make it so beautiful.

[shrutyarvind]

Nothing will ruin your 20s more than the belief that you should have everything figured out by now. This decade is meant for exploration, growth, and self-discovery, not for perfection or achieving some imagined standard of "togetherness." Don't miss out on your life by getting trapped in the illusion of having it all sorted out. Instead, focus on living each day as it comes, embracing every moment with enthusiasm and curiosity. Most of life is truly about the little things—the laughter shared with friends, quiet evenings spent reflecting, and the unexpected joys that catch you by surprise. These small moments are the building blocks of a fulfilling life, far more valuable than any checklist of accomplishments. If you allow yourself to savor these experiences, you’ll find meaning and contentment even amidst uncertainty. Leaving home for college and staying far from family and childhood friends can feel like a challenging sacrifice, but it’s a vital step in your journey. Your loved ones may not be physically close, but they remain integral to your life, their presence unshaken by distance. This physical separation is often necessary for growth—to explore new places, meet new people, and prepare for the life you aspire to create. The sacrifices you make now, such as missing family dinners or catching up with old friends over the phone instead of in person, are small in comparison to the greater good they pave the way for. It’s okay to feel sad, to cry, and to miss them; these emotions are a testament to how much they mean to you. But even from afar, their love and support remain unwavering. This period of your life is about building yourself while holding on to the connections that matter most. This journey of life is about moving forward, even if it means leaving behind familiar comforts. Ultimately, these steps you take now are what allow you to build a future that includes the happiness of being close to those you cherish the most. Life isn’t about racing to the destination; it’s about enjoying the journey and appreciating the people who make it meaningful. While life itself is ever-changing, certain relationships remain constant—they are your anchors, your steady sources of support and love. Distance does not diminish the bond between two people; it is the connection that matters, not proximity. Whether it’s family, old friends, or the new friendships you form in college, these relationships become part of the kaleidoscope of your life. The friends you make here will stay with you long after you graduate, sharing your successes, struggles, and milestones. Life may never be constant, but the people who truly matter will always find a way to remain in your world. It is through these relationships that life becomes more than just a collection of moments—it becomes a tapestry woven with love, friendship, and the memories you create with your people.

[shrutyarvind]

If being hard on yourself were truly the answer to overcoming life's challenges or achieving success, it would have worked by now. Many of us believe that self-criticism and relentless self-pressure are necessary to grow, but in reality, they often only deepen our wounds and stifle our progress. Constantly berating yourself for your perceived shortcomings or failures can leave you trapped in a cycle of negativity, unable to appreciate how far you’ve already come. Growth requires kindness, not punishment. It's important to recognize that being gentle with yourself doesn’t mean you're making excuses or giving up; rather, it creates space for healing and reflection. Self-compassion enables you to approach life with a clearer mind and a stronger heart, better equipped to face challenges with resilience. You owe it to yourself to break free from the harsh inner dialogue that no longer serves you and to embrace a mindset of encouragement and understanding.

When life begins to take a turn for the better—when love, joy, and hope start knocking on your door—it's crucial to allow yourself to receive them. Sometimes, we develop a sense of loyalty to our suffering, wearing it like a badge of honor, as though it defines our identity or makes us stronger. While hardships shape us, they don’t have to define us forever. Holding onto pain or guilt as though it’s the only thing that grounds you in reality prevents you from fully living. You deserve happiness, not as a reward for enduring suffering, but simply because you are human. Life is too short to delay joy, waiting for the perfect moment when everything feels "together." The truth is, life will always be messy in some way, and that’s okay. Letting good things happen, even when they feel undeserved or unfamiliar, is a courageous act of self-love. Open your heart to the possibilities that await you, and don’t let fear or self-doubt block your path to fulfillment.

Every ending, no matter how painful or abrupt, is also the first step toward a new beginning. Life is a continuous cycle of change, and with each new day, you are given an opportunity to start again. It’s easy to get stuck mourning what was lost or focusing on what went wrong, but every sunrise offers a fresh slate. Each morning you wake up is a gift—a chance to redefine your priorities, adjust your perspective, and take one small step toward a brighter future. Don’t miss out on the beauty of the present moment by obsessing over how to "fix" your life. Growth and transformation happen gradually, often in ways you don’t notice until you look back and see how far you’ve come. By embracing each day with an open heart and a willingness to begin anew, you honor your journey and all the potential it holds. Trust in the process of life, and let yourself move forward, one step at a time.

[shrutyarvind]

It’s disheartening to think that I was the first thing you let go of when things started getting difficult. I always believed that the bond we shared would mean something when life threw its inevitable challenges our way, that our connection was resilient enough to withstand a few storms. But when the time came, I was the easiest thing for you to discard. Maybe I was your escape route, a simple thing you could set aside rather than confront the internal battles you were facing. It shouldn’t have been so simple for you to give up on me, not after all we’d shared, not after the laughter and trust we’d built together. I was the easiest option to leave behind, but just because something is easy doesn’t mean it’s right. There were other ways, ways that could have shown the strength of your character and your commitment. You could have fought harder, for yourself and for us. You could have taken a step back to remember why we even started, to see beyond the frustration of the moment and realize that it was worth holding on to what we had.

Thinking about the memories we made, it hurts to see that you've chosen to define everything from the moment things took a turn for the worse. I can't help but wonder why only the negative times have so much weight in your mind. Why do the shadows overshadow the light? When we started, there was so much joy and ease, like we were effortlessly building something special, one laugh, one shared thought at a time. Those early conversations, the countless times we enjoyed each other’s company—those were real, and they should count for something. Yet, somehow, you’ve let the harder moments paint our entire story. I wish you’d taken a moment to breathe, to look back on the good before the bad took control, before letting negativity seep in and spread. The tough times were only a part of our journey, a test to see if we could rise above together, but you gave them so much power, and they became a weight we couldn't carry. Letting go of the darkness, facing it instead of running, could have saved us.

Abandoning me, leaving this relationship behind, won't erase the pain you feel. Those inner conflicts and challenges don’t vanish just because I’m no longer there. They linger, a reminder that love lost to negativity is a victory for the very thing you feared. You left, and the evil won because love lost its battle when you chose not to fight for it. Our relationship could have been a place where you grew, where we both grew, together and individually. But giving up has left a void where hope and love once resided. Abandoning me might feel like relief, like an answer to your struggles, but it's temporary at best. The struggles will remain, unresolved and persistent. If anything, love is what holds people up during the darkest of times, a light that stands against the shadows. But, by letting go of it, you gave up not just on me but on a chance to find strength in something beautiful.

[shrutyarvind]

People often see the world, including others, through the lens of their own experiences, emotions, and beliefs. When someone perceives themselves as unlovable or believes that people leave them because of this, it is often a projection of how they view their own capacity to love and connect. This belief reflects an internal struggle, a refusal or inability to embrace someone else's imperfections, particularly when those imperfections mirror their own. It’s not that the world conspires against them; instead, they unconsciously push people away or fail to create the bonds that can endure trials. For example, if a person feels they are hard to love, they might unknowingly guard their heart, shutting others out even when those people genuinely try to stay. This self-protective mechanism becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, making it nearly impossible for others to break through. While they may not see it, their actions—choosing isolation or building walls—inevitably contribute to the very outcomes they dread.

From the perspective of someone trying to love such a person, the experience can be heart-wrenching. You want to be there, to offer unwavering support, but every effort is met with resistance, as if they cannot trust your intentions. The question then becomes: how can you love someone who refuses to let you in? The frustration of being shut out, of having your efforts dismissed or ignored, is deeply disheartening. It feels like no matter how much you give, it's never enough. This dynamic makes it seem as though your presence, your love, your sacrifices are invisible. And when the person you care about walks away, leaving you to pick up the pieces, it feels as though you’re disposable—as if your presence was merely temporary, a convenience rather than a necessity. This pattern of being let down strips away your ability to trust, making it harder to believe that anyone else would ever stay or truly care.

Yet, what hurts the most is the realization that love, effort, and time may not be enough to change things. When you reflect on the months or years of giving everything you have and still feel unseen, unheard, and unappreciated, it leaves an ache that words can't capture. You want to believe in the possibility of change, to hope that the other person will finally understand the depth of your pain and take accountability for their actions. But when that hope fades, you find yourself torn between holding on and letting go. You aren’t ready to stop loving them because that love is genuine, but the weight of being mishandled, ignored, and taken for granted has become unbearable. The moments of happiness you share become bittersweet, tainted by the painful memories of betrayal and indifference. You reach a point where you’re not giving up on the person, but you are giving up on the situation because it’s breaking you. Even when love remains, the lack of reciprocity forces you to accept that staying might hurt more than walking away.

[shrutyarvind]

Throughout our lives, we inevitably become both a source of love and pain, sometimes deliberately, sometimes by chance. We have all, at one point or another, hurt someone deeply, whether we intended to or not. This ability to wound others — to be a blade, if you will — is paradoxically paired with an immense capacity to love others, perhaps even more powerfully. Love can enter our lives unexpectedly, taking root and growing through accidents of time, place, and circumstance, often flourishing in moments we could never have planned. But both hurting and loving others are intrinsic parts of the human experience, weaving together a complex web of our shared humanity. We wield both of these forces, consciously or unconsciously, and it is our responsibility to manage their weight in the lives of others. It is deeply human to be both fragile and fierce, compassionate yet flawed, to carry within us the duality of the organ and the blade.

Forgiving ourselves and others is perhaps the hardest lesson we face as we navigate the fallout of our mistakes. Each of us makes errors, sometimes life-altering ones, that can devastate those we care about, leaving scars that take years to heal, if they ever do. In these moments, we are confronted with guilt that seems impossible to shake — a guilt that clings like a shadow and reminds us of the times we hurt someone beyond repair. We carry this guilt, replaying memories and feeling the ache of regret, knowing that our love or our apologies may not be enough to undo the damage. Yet, it's in facing this guilt, learning to acknowledge our imperfections, that we grow. This journey towards self-forgiveness teaches us humility and reminds us that everyone, no matter how carefully they live, will stumble and falter. Mistakes are how we learn, after all, shaping us as much as our triumphs do. It’s in learning to breathe love, to draw it in even when it’s laced with regret, that we become most human.

However, there is always the risk that our mistakes might drive people away from us forever, leaving behind a lingering, bitter sense of loss. When someone leaves because of our actions, we often find ourselves wondering if things could have been different, wishing desperately for a second chance. We apologize, often repeatedly, promising that we have changed, that we’re no longer the person who hurt them. Yet, despite our best intentions, our words may not reach them. There is a profound sense of finality when someone we love does not return, even after our sincerest apologies. It’s a painful reminder that our love may not always be enough, that it cannot erase the past or heal every wound. Still, the experience shapes us, showing us the weight of our actions and the limitations of our love. We learn that while love is powerful, it is also fragile, and that each moment of love or pain becomes a part of who we are, continually shaping us as we move forward.

[shrutyarvind]

Today, I saw a post on Instagram that really touched my heart. It was about a girl's grandfather and the last note he left for her grandmother before he passed away. He knew that the only time she would find it was when she would be going through his will, so he attached the note there. In it, he wrote, "This I will REMEMBER, when the REST of life is through: The Finest Thing I've Ever Done Is Ever Loving You." Reading those words stirred something deep within me. It made me wonder what it would feel like to be someone’s biggest achievement, their greatest gift in life, and the best reason for their happiness. Those words made me reflect on the kind of love we all yearn for – not the fleeting, surface-level love that comes and goes, but the kind that stays. Being loved is a complex feeling. Love can come from anyone, even from afar. Sometimes you don't even know when someone is loving you, and other times you feel it clearly. There’s love that touches you deeply because it’s not just said in words, but is shown through actions. I believe that true love is one where words are not enough because the actions speak for themselves.

Feeling loved is different from just knowing you're loved. Anyone can say they love you, but the real essence of love comes when the person doesn’t just say big, poetic phrases, but makes you feel what they feel through their actions. There’s something unique about love that doesn’t need constant reassurance, where there’s a calm understanding between two people. It’s not always grand gestures or sweeping statements, but the small moments that make you feel secure and understood. I hope I find a love that is calm, soothing, and filled with a deep sense of cooperation and understanding. The kind of love where you don’t always need to hear the words because you already feel it in every little thing the other person does. When someone not only tells you they love you but shows it through the way they treat you, through the way they prioritize you in their life, it is profound. It’s a love where both partners are willing to grow and heal together, where the relationship itself becomes a safe haven. And this kind of love doesn’t feel forced or overly dramatic; it just flows naturally, bringing peace rather than chaos. In a world where so many are broken or healing, I think it’s important to find someone who is willing to heal with you, not just for you but for themselves too.

Nowadays, it seems like so many people are living individual lives, wrapped up in their own worlds, chasing their own dreams and fighting their own battles. I understand that everyone is their own person, but I often wonder – if we’re all so focused on our personal lives, when do we get to live our lives together with someone else? It makes me think about how two individual lives can overlap, and how much of ourselves we’re willing to share with someone else. If I’m living my life and the person I love is living theirs, where do we find the space to build something together? Which part of our individual paths can merge and become one shared journey? I sometimes wonder if it’s selfish to wish for a partner who would put me above all else, not by sacrificing their morals or values, but by making me their priority, as I would do for them. To have someone see me as their greatest treasure, to be their prized possession in the most loving, respectful way – that’s what I hope for. It’s not about domination or control, but about truly making each other feel valued, cherished, and loved. Love, to me, is about that balance – being able to grow as a person while also growing together with someone else. It’s about finding those moments where two lives intertwine, where you’re not just existing side by side but truly living as one. Finding that harmony, that balance between independence and togetherness, is what I hope for in a relationship. A love where we both have our own lives, but we also have a life that we share, and in that shared space, we create something beautiful together.

[shrutyarvind]

Logically, the idea of love seems almost paradoxical. Why would we willingly choose to immerse ourselves in such profound vulnerability? It doesn’t make sense that we spend time learning every intricate detail of someone else, investing emotionally, knowing all the while that everything in life is temporary. Love defies logic, as we open ourselves up to the inevitable pain that comes with it. We adopt pets, fully aware that someday, we will watch them wag their tails for the last time. We form deep friendships, share our innermost secrets, and know that these connections may not last forever, yet we trust that those secrets will be kept. We send texts like "I miss you" to people we haven't seen in ages, cherishing their replies as if no time has passed at all. In these moments, we forget about the fleeting nature of it all, even though we know, deep down, that love will either fade, we will drift apart, or we will be left with nothing but memories.

Yet, despite this knowledge, we continue to love. We willingly step into this cycle of connection and loss, aware that it might slip away. So, why do we love? Perhaps it is because love is what makes us feel truly alive. It gives meaning to our days and nights, adding color to the otherwise monotonous routine of existence. Without love, who would we be? We are drawn to it because, at our core, we know that life without love is empty. Love connects us to the world and to each other in a way that nothing else can. It is a testament to our humanity, to our desire to feel, to connect, to be more than just solitary beings. Even when love brings pain, we accept it because the moments of joy, warmth, and connection make it all worthwhile. Love might not make sense, but it is an essential part of what it means to be human.

We love because, in a way, we are all constantly creating a patchwork quilt of everything and everyone we've ever loved. I imagine this quilt as a vibrant, intricate map of all the pieces of my heart I've given away, scattered across the world. Each patch represents a person, a pet, a moment, stitched together into something beautiful, despite the pain and loss. If I am a collection of all the love I've experienced, then my quilt is a masterpiece, a kaleidoscope of memories, emotions, and connections. It is imperfect, filled with both joy and sorrow, but it is uniquely mine, a testament to the life I've lived and the love I've shared. This is why we love, even when it doesn't make sense—because in the end, our lives are the sum of all the love we've given and received, and that, in itself, is a beautiful thing.

[shrutyarvind]

Love, in its purest form, often hides in the smallest gestures, in the quiet moments that pass unnoticed if you're not paying attention. It's in those late-night conversations when you're too tired to talk, but still linger on the phone, asking, "Did you eat yet?" because you're concerned about someone's well-being. It's in the books left outside your door, chosen with care, a silent understanding that you’d appreciate their pages. Love is watching a movie together, not because you're interested in the plot, but because someone said, "I wanted to watch this with you," and sharing the experience is all that matters. It’s in splitting something in half to share—whether it's food, a memory, or even a moment—knowing that the simple act of giving half means sharing something meaningful. When someone says, "I'm proud of you," it’s love disguised as encouragement, folding itself into every compliment like a warm embrace, much like folded towels left neatly for you after a long day, a gesture of care and thoughtfulness.

Love is found in the simple act of offering choices, like when someone says, "You can pick," whether it’s the movie for the night, the music for the car ride, or the place to eat. It’s in the quiet comfort of resting your head on someone's shoulder, where words are unnecessary, and the shared silence speaks volumes. Love also shows up in the most vulnerable moments, like when someone admits, "You're right, that was shitty. I'm sorry," showing that love isn't about always being right but about being humble enough to apologize. Love is in the knock on your door when you didn’t expect company, and the loud call of "DINNER!" from the other room, a way of pulling you into a shared space, into belonging. It's in the dumb jokes, the kind that make no sense, but you laugh anyway because the effort alone is endearing. And when someone hands you something and says, "Hey, I got this for you," it's love speaking through a simple gift, a thoughtful reminder that they were thinking of you, even when you weren’t around.

Love is also brewed in small moments, like a cup of coffee made just the way you like it, a little too specific for anyone else to get right, but they do it perfectly because they know you. It's in the words, "Tell me when you reach home," a request born out of concern, love wrapped in safety. Holding hands while crossing the road is love, a silent promise to protect, to guide, to be there for each other, even in the simplest of actions. Love can also be found in the small gifts, the ones that come with the words, "I got this for you because I knew you would've liked it," where the thought matters more than the item itself. These are the unspoken ways people say "I love you" every day, over and over again, without needing the words. If you only listen closely, you’ll realize that love is everywhere, in the everyday moments, the whispers between actions, and the tenderness in the smallest gestures.

[shrutyarvind]

We often underestimate the power of the small, seemingly insignificant moments in relationships—the "papercuts" that occur every time a voice is raised, a cruel word is spoken, or affection is withheld. These moments don’t typically stand out in isolation; they are not the grand betrayals or major conflicts that cause immediate crises in a relationship. Instead, they are the little incidents that, over time, accumulate and cause emotional harm. When a partner speaks in anger or frustration, when support is absent during difficult times, or when impatience takes over and kindness is forgotten, tiny wounds are inflicted on the emotional fabric that holds the relationship together. These moments may not be enough to make someone walk away, but they cause a subtle shift, a quiet retreat from the closeness that once existed. The erosion of emotional intimacy is gradual but real, and over time, it becomes harder to ignore the impact of these repeated injuries.

Each "papercut" represents a piece of the emotional connection that gets chipped away, making love and affection just a little bit harder to give and receive. What once felt effortless, such as sharing a loving glance, a kind word, or a gentle touch, now requires more effort. The trust and warmth that once came naturally begin to diminish, replaced by an undercurrent of tension or detachment. It’s not that one grand event causes this change, but rather the accumulation of minor grievances and disappointments. A raised voice in one argument may not seem like a big deal, but when it’s repeated, or when moments of anger are followed by indifference or lack of communication, the hurt lingers. Over time, these small hurts build up, and a distance forms—a gap that wasn’t there before. Even when both partners still care for each other, there’s a subtle shift where emotional safety starts to feel more elusive, and love starts to lose its luster.

The danger of these "papercuts" lies in their slow, insidious nature. Because they don’t cause an immediate rupture, it’s easy to overlook them, to convince yourself that they’re not significant enough to address. But ignoring them allows the wounds to fester and grow, creating deeper emotional scars over time. What begins as a minor issue can lead to larger problems if not addressed. The cumulative effect of these unspoken hurts is a gradual breakdown of the relationship’s foundation, where love, respect, and trust slowly erode. It’s essential to recognize and address these everyday hurts as they occur. Open communication, empathy, and emotional awareness are critical in stopping the buildup of resentment and preventing these small wounds from turning into lasting damage. Relationships are not destroyed by one dramatic event but by the slow accumulation of unresolved pain. Healing these "papercuts" as they happen is key to maintaining a healthy, loving, and long-lasting connection.

[shrutyarvind]

You get uncomfortable seeing people doing things for you because you're not used to kindness that doesn't feel like a burden. The idea of being taken care of just because someone wants to, without any ulterior motives or expectations, is foreign and unsettling. The thought that someone could genuinely want to be there for you without later using it as leverage in conversations is almost inconceivable. The concept that you can be loved without love being a debt you must constantly repay is something that creeps you out. A gesture made without any intention of later collection is unexpected and hard to accept. You fear how easily humans can forget that the person on the receiving end of their actions is also human, capable of feelings and deserving of genuine care. Allowing yourself to be truly loved and known is a much harder task than it sounds; it requires a level of vulnerability that is difficult to muster. Letting someone see your raw, unpolished self and hold you through your darkest moments, understanding you without words, or learning your communication style and adjusting theirs to better connect with you—that's what real love feels like. It's not about grand gestures but about the quiet, consistent presence and the deep, empathetic understanding that builds a bridge of true connection. There is a profound challenge in accepting love without suspicion, in believing that someone might want to be with you simply because they value who you are. The unease stems from a history of interactions where every act of kindness was transactional, where affection was a currency exchanged for something in return. This ingrained mindset makes the pure, unconditional nature of genuine love seem almost alien, something too good to be true. Trusting in such love means dismantling the walls built from past disappointments and betrayals, which is no small feat. It's about relearning how to receive without the constant fear of being indebted, about embracing the idea that your worth is not tied to what you can give back. The simplicity of being loved for who you are, with no strings attached, is both a beautiful and terrifying prospect. It requires a leap of faith to believe that someone can see all your flaws, all your insecurities, and still choose to stay, to support you, to understand you in ways that go beyond words. This kind of love, where someone looks at your ugly and holds you through it, where they learn and adapt to communicate with you better, is the kind of profound, transformative connection that reshapes your entire understanding of relationships. It teaches you that true love is not about grand gestures but about the consistent, quiet presence that reassures you of your worth and makes you feel truly seen and valued.

[shrutyarvind]

"Being suicidal and living for others is incredibly draining," they said. I don't think it's living for others; I think it's more like living because of them. You love them so much that you would rather be in pain than cause them pain. Your pain doesn't go away with you; it just gets transferred to your loved ones. Like "normal" people would die for someone, you are living for them. This is the sign of the purest form of love. The immense burden of feeling suicidal while being tethered to life by the sheer force of love for others can create a heavy emotional toll. It's not simply about existing for their sake; it's about enduring, persevering through your own darkness to spare them the agony your absence would bring. The agony you feel is a testament to the depth of your love, a love so profound that it keeps you anchored despite the overwhelming urge to let go. This kind of love is rare and raw, revealing the strength of your bonds and the lengths to which you would go to protect those you care about. It’s a sacrifice that often goes unseen, a silent struggle that underscores the intensity of your commitment to the well-being of your loved ones. The pain you endure is not just yours; it is a shared burden, one you choose to carry alone to shield those you love from the devastating ripple effects of your potential departure. This form of living, though fraught with personal suffering, is a powerful and poignant expression of the deepest kind of love—one that chooses to stay, to fight, and to hold on, not for oneself, but for the happiness and peace of those who matter most.

[shrutyarvind]

I don't know whether it's cute or depressing how many opportunities people have invented to make wishes: birthday candles, eyelashes, fountains, stars, dandelions. The sheer variety and ubiquity of these wish-making moments reveal a deep, almost universal yearning for something more, a hope that despite the randomness and chaos of life, there is still a chance for a magical intervention. It's fascinating how even those who claim they don't believe in the universe or any kind of higher power often can't resist the allure of making a wish when presented with the opportunity. These moments of wish-making, seemingly small and inconsequential, are woven into the fabric of our lives from childhood to adulthood, becoming rituals that provide a sense of comfort and possibility. Whether it's blowing out the candles on a birthday cake with eyes squeezed shut, catching a fleeting eyelash on a fingertip, tossing a coin into a fountain, spotting a shooting star, or blowing on a dandelion puff, these acts are imbued with a certain childlike wonder and hope. They are simple gestures that momentarily suspend disbelief, allowing us to dream and hope for something better, no matter how fleeting or improbable it may seem. So, while it might seem a bit sad that we cling to these small, whimsical practices, it is also heartwarming to see that deep down, we all share a common thread of hope and a desire for a bit of magic in our lives.

[shrutyarvind]

Most of life really is about the little things: a good haircut that boosts your confidence and makes you feel fresh, a nice playlist that perfectly captures your mood and accompanies you through your day, trying a new recipe that turns out well and fills your home with delightful aromas, a poem that hits home and resonates with your innermost thoughts and feelings, a comfortable spot in the sun where you can relax and soak in the warmth, spontaneous messages from friends that bring a smile to your face, a pen you enjoy writing with that glides smoothly across the paper, coffee with the right temperature to drink, offering a perfect balance of warmth and flavor, the first bite of your favorite dessert that melts in your mouth and brings a sense of pure satisfaction, buying that thing you've been eyeing for a while and finally treating yourself to something special, and a warm bed that envelops you in comfort at the end of a long day. These seemingly small moments and simple pleasures are what truly enrich our lives and bring us joy, reminding us to be grateful for the little enjoyments that often go unnoticed but hold so much significance in our everyday existence.