fleur

𝟶𝟶 : 𝟶𝟶 | ★ ! 18 · sagi — 🎧 !! evermore | enfp 🍓 ‎ fleuwrites.medium.com

[fleuwrites]

i miss when love felt like a breath of fresh air, not a thunderous storm filled with constant pleas for sincerity and genuine affection.

[nixscriptum]

[cyberxbattalion]

[fleuwrites]

Sometimes, I just wish to go back. Not to escape—but to remember what it felt like to be alive without the weight of the world pressing down on my chest.

[moderndaymystic]

there’s nothing more romantic than someone choosing to learn you. flipping the pages in your soul delicately and digesting your chapters with an open mind no matter how difficult or uncomfortable some of your moments read, treating each bookmark with no judgment, but pure love.

[moonss-and-stars]

“Yes books are dangerous. They should be dangerous–they contain ideas.”

[inversedlines]

That’s the way I fall for him

[theangelsnumbers]

Your strength is not measured by how well you hide your pain, but by how you carry it and keep going.

Unknown

[mournfulroses]

Simone de Beauvoir, from a diary entry featured in Diary of a Philosophy Student

[oncce-againn]

I need to be held by someone who cares about me deeply

[fleuwrites]

You are not weak for staying. You are brave for breathing when it hurts

I looked out the window like a lifeless body. I was breathing, but my heart had stopped a long time ago. I tried to knock my way in, but no matter how many times I tried, no one ever opened that door inside.

For so long, I held onto that feeling—suffocating, nauseous, and tiring—and for so long, I thought I could never swim back to shore. My baggage was too heavy to carry, and no one was there to help me. For years, I was bound by the belief that this cycle would never end.

No matter how much I cried and soaked my body with tears—as if that was the only thing I could ever do—I thought it was because I was a coward. But my heart was never gone. It kept beating, slow and steady, trying to bring me back to life. It kept me alive even as everything inside me slowly faded away. I tried to run, tried to hurt myself, but no matter what I did, my hands would stop. I couldn’t kill that heartbeat that was keeping me alive—keeping me sane. Before, I thought that was cowardice, but now I know it was mercy. It was my last act of bravery, my last act of kindness against this cruel world.

I stayed, no matter how painful it felt. Even when it felt like thorns pierced my skin, or like two storms were colliding in my mind with every passing second. I held on because it was the only thing I could give myself when everything in my life shattered into pieces—even when everyone left me alone in that cold tombstone.

So, to those who are struggling to keep everything together: I know life can be cruel sometimes. I know because I’ve been there. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to leave, with wanting it all to end. But despite that drowning feeling, please give yourself one last act of kindness. It may be the only thing we can offer ourselves when we feel too broken to give anything else.

When everything feels heavy, shed those tears. Scream until your throat runs dry, until you forget what you were crying about. There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing to be afraid of. You’re just surviving—you’re just a kid still trying to learn the ways of the world.

So, don’t forgive others first. Forgive yourself for being too hard, too unforgiving. It’s alright. You’re alright. Someday, we’ll all be alright. Until then, let’s hold on a little longer, breathe a little deeper, and be kind—be brave—even if it’s the last thing we do.

—fleuwrites

[fleuwrites]

the sun shone and birds chirped, it was a peaceful morning not knowing what lies ahead, i was talking and laughing with my friends while you went on with your life, we were on our own bubbles when disaster shattered the peace that surrounded us

you left me with two words "sorry," and "goodbye" it made me hate those word but i can't seem to stop saying them because deep inside it was something that made me remember you, i wanted my heart to remember you despite the pain you caused me, despite the relief you gave me

love wasn't something i was lucky to have, i never felt those comforting words because my life was already set from the start, i was taught that love would ruin the life ahead of me so i shut those out and remained the perfect daughter, so i grew up begging to feel that warmth but i never did

then, you came into my life and made me feel the things i never felt before, butterflies on my stomach, giddy feeling and those fluttering words, and for once i forgot just how cold my life was, how dead i was inside because you came and gave me life when i needed it most, you knew i was broken, yet you insisted on fixing me despite knowing that you can never fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed, you gave me comfort and a shelter away from the shattered pieces of my own, but just when i was able to live, you suddenly stopped breathing

but maybe it was my fault for not having the courage to fight for you or maybe it was yours for not having the patience to be more understanding but maybe it was the both of us. i needed life and you willingly gave me your warmth, but you were already full of love and life that i never thought you were the one who actually needed that

i thought i was the one who was dying but who knew that it was actually you on that rainy night, the phone rang casually like death wasn't coming your way, who would've thought that your last words that i’ll ever hear was the words you used to bring me back to life and once again will be taken away by two words, again

“he’s dead” they said, my ears rang at those words that your mother left, and my world crumbled, the dried ground was filled with my tears as regret came flooding in, your voice slowly fading from my memories, your face now a silhouette in the dark, our memories now a jigsaw puzzle i couldn't fathom to put back in place, your words now haunting me every midnight, your presence once warm now empty, cold, and silent.

how i wish i could love you once more, rewrite the way it ended because i know that i may have moved on along with our memories and was able to numb the pain every morning, the mourning will always stay, because no matter how many years will pass, i will forever love you and grieve for you because i believe that we do not unlove someone, we just simply live without them, get used to them not being in our lives anymore, but we’ll always love them no matter what.

—fleuwrites

[fleuwrites]

Your fault wasn’t leaving—it was staying even when you already knew the ending.

We sometimes fool ourselves into thinking that we can save someone, that love alone could stop the slow, deliberate breaking of a relationship that was never meant to last. But love shouldn’t be a burden. It shouldn’t be about saving someone or holding on to something that’s already slipping away. It should be about loving and staying strong despite the challenges you’ll face—and accepting the truth that some people simply aren’t meant to be saved, and some relationships are meant to end no matter how tightly we hold on.

Maybe that’s the hardest part—learning that love isn’t always enough. You can give your all, pour out every piece of yourself, and still find that it’s not what the other person needs. Sometimes, love ends not because it was weak, but because it was given to the wrong person, at the wrong time. And that’s okay, becayse growth often begins where comfort ends.

One day, you’ll look back and realize that leaving taught you something staying never could. It taught you strength, patience, and the painful beauty of letting go. And when you finally choose peace over chaos, and healing over holding on, you’ll see that walking away was never a loss, but a quiet kind of victory.

—fleuwrites

[fleuwrites]

A Love’s Misery

I saw love

in the way my mother wept—

every time a broken glass

found its way to her thighs,

and she’d whisper,

“It’s fine.”

Like bleeding was just another form of devotion.

I saw love

in the way midnight screamed through our walls—

not voices,

but echoes of arguments

that sounded like a late-night talk show

with no audience,

no laughter,

just pain on repeat.

I saw love

in the way my father came home drunk,

alone,

while my mother held her breath

and walked on her own silence,

afraid that even the air might betray her.

And I thought—

maybe this is love.

Maybe love hurts.

Maybe love is supposed to make you small

and quiet

and scared.

But somewhere inside me—

a voice whispered, no.

Love isn’t supposed to sound like breaking glass.

It isn’t supposed to smell like alcohol and apology.

It isn’t supposed to feel like survival.

But I saw love,

not the kind they write poems about.

Not the kind that heals.

The kind that leaves bruises

you can’t see but still feel.

I saw love

not as comfort,

but as ache—

dark, and lonely,

and it taught me that tenderness

could wear the face of fear.

And yet,

despite the ruin,

despite the ghosts that linger in its name,

I still crave love,

but not the kind that bruises.

I crave a love that does not silence,

that does not tremble or bleed.

So I swore—

if love like theirs

should ever seek me out,

if it dares to whisper through my door,

I will not answer.

I would rather sleep beneath the soil,

where even sorrow cannot find me,

than live to be loved in misery,

the way I once saw love done.

[paper-wounds]

[tanyushenka]

Photography: Egypt. Alexandria. 1993.  Photographer:  Harry Gruyaert

[paper-wounds]