Vic

:(

[s1986u9-deactivated20250917]

I am not a robot

Need to tattoo this in my brain

[dedrxzez]

Even now, after everything.

The thought of all that pain still makes me cry.

[dedrxzez]

Forever I will suffer souls that keep passing through me

[dedrxzez]

I don’t think I’m doomed, but I do feel things too deeply and too quickly when I connect with someone. Even brief moments of closeness can feel intense, like I’ve absorbed more of them than the situation realistically holds, and when it ends I struggle to let go. I keep wondering if it comes from wanting to be seen and understood, or from something older—maybe times I felt invisible or unheard that made connection feel rare and therefore overwhelming. Whatever the cause, I find myself repeating the same pattern: feeling something real in the moment, wanting more than the circumstances allow, and then trying to make sense of the absence afterward.

[dedrxzez]

“No strings attached” was the agreement, and I meant it when I agreed. I knew what it was. I knew the rules. What I didn’t account for was how quickly someone can stop feeling like a stranger when they let you see behind the curtain. Somewhere between the conversations, the laughter, the music, the meals, and falling asleep beside each other, I learned the shape of your sadness. I noticed the cracks in your armour, the things you carried, the moments where you let yourself be vulnerable without realising it. It was casual, technically. That’s what we called it. Maybe that’s why I’m still trying to understand why it felt like more. Not because I wanted more, and not because I was jealous, but because for a brief moment I felt genuinely seen, and I’m not sure that’s as casual as people pretend it is. Maybe this is normal. Maybe people do this every day and walk away untouched. Maybe I just lack experience with this kind of thing. All I know is that for something that wasn’t supposed to mean anything, it left a surprisingly clear impression. It was attraction, chemistry, circumstance, two people enjoying each other’s company for a short while. Nothing more. At least that’s the story I keep telling myself.

[dedrxzez]

I stand at the edge of a sea that keeps taking names and returning ghosts.

Some people build walls against the tide. I keep walking into it.

Every current carries a different wound. Splintered hulls. Waterlogged prayers. Stories stitched together with old scars. I gather them like treasures pulled from the deep, holding them to the light, tracing every crack as if understanding it might make it whole.

Maybe that’s what draws me back. Not the promise of calm water, but the storm itself. The collision. The ache. The brief warmth of finding another soul drifting through the dark and believing, for a moment, that neither of us has to drown alone.

Love has always felt less like a choice and more like a gravity. It pulls at everything. Strangers. Lovers. Passing faces. Entire lives I will never live. I feel them all pressing against my ribs.

It’s exhausting.

It’s beautiful.

The same hand that offers shelter also leaves splinters beneath the skin.

There are days I think peace must exist somewhere beyond the tide. A quiet shore untouched by longing. No hunger. No loss. No waiting. But every version of that peace feels empty. A room with no windows. Air that never moves.

The only escape is sound

For a few minutes, a voice pours itself through a speaker and suddenly every buried thing has a language. Every wound becomes visible. Every ghost sits beside me. Nothing feels distant. Nothing feels imagined.

I love too much for my own good.

I love what breaks people. I love what survives them.

And that is the problem.

Because while part of me reaches for everyone, another part is always staring toward the next horizon, searching for another lighthouse in the fog.

I tell myself I’m looking for home.

But sometimes I wonder if I’m only in love with the sea.

[dedrxzez]

Self sabotaging the moment I feel a pinch of pain

[dedrxzez]

deeply loved by a person who wants to give them the universe, literally the stars but doesn’t quite know how to love in the right way.

[dedrxzez]

The halls in my heart are dark caves a solo traveller searching for the light at the end. I have encountered the demons of love, and heartbreak. The crushing beams from above making the journey hard and tough, like there’s no reason to carry on. In love I search for the feeling. That one beautiful soul enticing answers the one I felt once long ago, but in this darkness there are thorns, sharp chains dragging me down holding me back, I want to free so badly and reach the end. But with every step and stretch closer I am dragged to the floor. Is it fear to see the light after darkness for so long. Is it I have been free down here with no one but my own to keep me company, learning myself, becoming my own. the idea of another life another answer at the end. Too scary to reach. Am I trapped or choosing to stay here?. Gold reflections enticing me from different corners, so tempting I am vulnerable I am easily misled. I know this. What is the real goal here? To feel that love once again. Or to remain trapped in the darkness which is also kind of ..free. I know I am damaged, I know I am alone, the internal demons in my mind. I can’t find the angel that hides within them. To finally feel free and see what is right, I would stay down here for eternity if it meant I do not have to feel that sorrow, and betrayal once more. From the trauma of heartbreak, I became the beast. To feel like the ones who killed me first I feel my downfall was justified, for it is a different type of evil, and to become the master, I now understand why it hurt so much. What hurts more is that I hate it down here, but I also hate what’s up there.

[figr0llmouse]

Damn, Marina why are you so relatable?

[dedrxzez]

Even now, after everything.

The thought of all that pain still makes me cry.

[remanence-of-love]

[dedrxzez]

1 year, and something in me hasn’t gone back to the way it was.

I’ve tried to feel the same again.

Tried to love the way I used to, to open myself like before. But it’s different now.

Numb, maybe. Guarded, definitely.

your fault?

Or did I do it to myself?

I don’t know.

All I know is that after you, love feels heavier.

It feels riskier.

Like no matter who comes next, they’re only ever getting what’s left.

[dedrxzez]

Maybe I’m selfish.

Maybe I’m scared.

Maybe I’m both.

[dedrxzez]

There was a time I loved so openly, so fearlessly. A time when my heart rushed ahead of my mind, eager to feel something pure, something perfect. I wanted love so badly I chose it over my own instincts, over my own pain. I chose it even as I watched myself crumble under the weight of someone else’s disregard.

I let them diminish me. Let them tell me I wasn’t enough. That I didn’t do enough. Even though I gave everything I had—everything. And still, I stayed. Because I thought that was love. To love without conditions, to endure. To believe love was worth any cost.

But something in me has changed. There’s a fracture now. A shift in the way I love, in the way I exist in connection. The part of me that once loved endlessly, that version of me feels so far away now. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that kind of love again—the reckless, wholehearted kind. I thought it was pure. But looking back, I see the truth: I was painting over the cracks, sugarcoating the neglect, dressing up the harm as passion.

Was it love? Yes, it was. But it wasn’t good for me. I loved despite the bad, because I didn’t know how to stop. I kept choosing love over myself.

Not anymore.

I can still love—but I do it differently now. With eyes wide open, with boundaries I never had before. And yes, part of me misses the way love once felt. There’s a grief in that. A mourning for the innocence I lost. But I’ve made peace with it. I expect disappointment now, and somehow, that makes me stronger—not bitter, just prepared. I know how to survive it.

Parts of my life have improved, sure—but at what cost? Empathy, softness, the capacity to self-sacrifice without hesitation. I still have those qualities, but not in the same abundance. They’re rationed now. Protected. I don’t know if that makes me wiser or just… detached. Maybe both.

It’s strange—to be so emotionally aware and yet so quick to disengage when I sense danger. When love starts to feel like a trap again, I pull away. I have to. I won’t let anyone break me like that again.

This is my truth now: I still long for love, but I won’t abandon myself for it. I won’t let disappointment become the architect of my life anymore. This time, I hold the control. Even if it means walking away.

[aseaofquotes]

Mikel Jollett, Hollywood Park

[konoko]