I hope, may makilala ako mga new friends here soon.
I was a spazzer way back 2016. Huhu. I missed those days. Missin' those pips I met back then.

The pen felt heavy in my hand, the paper a blank canvas waiting for my story. It wasn't a story of grand gestures or sweeping romance, but it was mine, ours, and I needed to capture it, to hold it close.

I started with the beginning, the way our eyes met across a crowded room, a spark igniting in the chaos. It was a simple moment, nothing extraordinary, but it felt like the world shifted on its axis. I remember the way he smiled, a shy, hesitant smile that made my heart skip a beat.

Then came the getting-to-know-you phase, a whirlwind of shared laughter, late-night conversations, and stolen glances. We were two souls drawn together by an invisible thread, exploring each other's worlds with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

Our story, it wasn't perfect. It had its bumps and bruises, its moments of doubt and uncertainty. But it was ours, a tapestry woven with threads of love, laughter, and a shared dream of forever.

I knew, deep down, that our story might not have a happily-ever-after ending. Life, it has a way of throwing curveballs, of rewriting narratives in ways we never expect. But I wanted to hold onto the memories, to savor the moments of pure, unadulterated joy we shared.

So, I wrote. I wrote about the way he made me laugh until my stomach hurt, about the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about his passions, about the way he held my hand, his touch a warm, reassuring presence.

I wrote about the love, the stupid, head-over-heels, breathless love I felt for him. I wrote it all down, word by word, so that even if our story ended, I would still have the memories, the love, the essence of our time together etched on those pages.

And maybe, just maybe, one day when I looked back, I wouldn't be filled with sadness, but with a bittersweet gratitude for the love that once bloomed, a love that I would forever cherish, even if it had to fade.

#forhim

The whispers started softly, like a breeze rustling through leaves. "He's not good for you," they'd say, their voices laced with concern. "There are so many others who like you." I'd just laugh, a nervous chuckle that hid the truth.

He was my anchor, my safe harbour in a storm. He was the one who reached out when I was drowning, the one who saw me when I felt invisible. His flaws, they were like the cracks in an old, worn-out map, but they were also part of the story, part of the journey we were on together.

I knew he wasn't perfect. He had his red flags, his moments of darkness. But I loved him, fiercely, unconditionally. I promised myself that one day, when life finally dealt with me with a winning hand, I'd spoil him rotten, make him the happiest man he could be. It was my way of repaying the kindness he'd shown me.

Love, I realized, wasn't about finding someone flawless. It was about accepting their colors, their imperfections, and finding your own shade to blend with theirs. I had hope, a flicker of faith that he could change, just like I was trying to change for him. After all, we were both human, both flawed, both learning to navigate the messy, beautiful landscape of life together.

Ps: I came here just to post some cringe letters for him.

#writer