[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

One friend I knew

Two hearts that grew

Three words felt new

Four walls we’d sleep through

Five texts a day

Six times I’d say

Seven small ways

Eight reasons you’d stay

One quiet room

Two coffee spoons

Three songs in June

Four laughs past noon

Five steps apart

Six feet, then not

Seven fears I brought

Eight times you taught

One life ahead

Two paths instead

Three doubts unsaid

Four dreams we kept

Five years from now

Six somehow vows

Seven wrinkled brows

Eight still figuring out

One thing is true

Two became “us”

Three words still do

Forever feels like you

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

i used to think

love meant proving.

proving i wasn’t going to leave.

proving i wasn’t thinking of someone else.

proving every silence wasn’t hiding something.

proving every song meant nothing.

proving every mile between work and home was exactly where i said i’d be.

i handed over my location.

my passwords weren’t far behind.

my nights belonged to a glowing screen,

sleeping with a camera pointed at my face

because trust had become something i was expected to perform.

i kept shrinking.

first it was a person.

then friends.

then music.

then pieces of myself i didn’t even notice disappearing.

the funny thing about carrying a weight for so long

is that eventually you stop calling it heavy.

you just call it love.

until one day

you set it down.

and the silence that follows

doesn’t sound lonely.

it sounds like breathing.

i spent so long asking

how i could’ve loved you better,

i never stopped to ask

why kindness was something

you only expected from me.

i know i hurt you.

i’ve made peace with that.

what i haven’t made peace with

is how easily you convinced yourself

that hurting me back

was love.

so no,

i don’t miss us.

i don’t miss proving.

i don’t miss apologizing for the same ghost.

i don’t miss feeling like my life had to get smaller

for your heart to feel bigger.

i walked away

with less certainty than i came in,

but with one truth i know by heart,

love can ask me to grow.

it doesn’t get to erase me.

and maybe that’s the quiet miracle

no one talks about.

one day,

you stop introducing yourself

through the things you survived.

you laugh a little louder.

you play the songs you actually like.

you make friends

without wondering if they’ll become evidence.

you love

without feeling like you’re waiting

for the next interrogation.

i spent so much time

trying not to be the person

who hurt you,

i forgot what it felt like

to simply be me.

today,

i get to exist

without asking for permission.

what a privilege.

what a beautiful,

ordinary life.

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

I spent years thinking

that love meant

measuring every sentence

before I said it.

Like there was a hidden landmine

in every memory,

every joke,

every story that happened

before we even met.

I thought that was normal.

I thought that if someone loved you,

you had to shrink parts of yourself

so they could feel safe.

Then somehow,

in the middle of a random conversation

while I was sitting upright,

waiting for 7 AM

because my stomach decided

sleep was not an option,

I told you everything.

Not because I planned to.

Not because I had to.

But because I knew

you’d understand.

And you did.

No jealousy.

No scorekeeping.

No punishment

for having a life before you.

Just understanding.

And now I’m lying here,

feeling so stupidly happy

that I’m actually getting angry

at my past self.

Because what the actual fuck?

I spent so much time

walking on eggshells

that I forgot

what it felt like

to just walk.

And now there’s you.

Someone who says

being my safe space

is a privilege.

Can you imagine?

Because I still can’t.

How blessed am I,

really,

to have found someone

who lets me be

all of myself

and somehow

likes me more for it.

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

i promised myself

there would never be another playlist.

i had already given away too many songs.

some to people who left,

some to people i thought would stay.

when it ended,

the music survived.

it always does.

the songs came back eventually,

but i told myself that was the last time.

no more soundtracks.

no more carefully arranged confessions.

no more hearing a lyric and thinking,

“i wish they knew this is how i feel.”

then i met you.

and now i’m annoyed.

because every time i hear something beautiful,

my first thought is you.

because i keep opening spotify

with the intention of listening,

and leaving with another song that reminds me of you.

because after all my promises,

after all my caution,

after all the reasons i gave myself not to do this again,

i want to.

not because it’s fair.

not because other people got one.

but because this is how i love.

and if i’m being honest,

the hardest part isn’t making the playlist.

it’s finding songs worthy of you.

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

I thought healing would arrive like a door closing.

A final conversation.

A final tear.

A final goodbye.

Instead, it arrived quietly.

In the middle of ordinary days.

In realizing that old wounds still ache sometimes, but no longer control where I go.

In noticing that the stories I tell about my past are no longer about the people who hurt me, but about the person I became afterward.

Sometimes I still get triggered.

Sometimes an old memory taps me on the shoulder and asks to be remembered.

But the difference now is that I don’t live there anymore.

I visit.

I acknowledge it.

Then I come home.

And somehow, in the middle of all that, you happened.

Not like a rescue.

Not like a miracle.

More like finding a forgotten version of myself.

The one who smiles at his phone.

The one who gets excited over nothing.

The one who listens to old Owl City songs and feels sixteen again.

I used to think love was supposed to feel dramatic.

Now I think it’s this:

Having someone beside you while your mind wanders.

Being allowed to be quiet without having to explain yourself.

Sharing your scars without being asked to hide them.

Maybe healing isn’t becoming someone new.

Maybe it’s finally feeling safe enough to become yourself again.

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

You asked me how I could know.

I wanted to answer,

but every explanation felt smaller

than the feeling itself.

How do I explain

why certain songs stay with us?

Why some sunsets are forgotten

before the sky turns dark,

while others linger for years

without asking permission?

I do not know.

I only know that somewhere

between the ordinary moments,

I began looking for you.

In stories I wanted to tell.

In jokes I wanted to share.

In the quiet spaces of my day

that seemed a little less complete

without your voice in them.

And when you asked for a reason,

I searched for one.

I gathered all the evidence

I could find.

The laughter.

The comfort.

The fondness.

The concern.

But none of them felt like the answer.

They felt like footprints.

Signs that something had already arrived.

Maybe feelings are not meant

to be proven.

Maybe they are meant

to be witnessed.

So I will not ask you

to believe me.

I will not build a case,

or make promises

louder than time.

Instead,

I will be here.

Tomorrow,

and the day after that.

In the ordinary hours.

In the uneventful days.

In the moments

when there is nothing to win

and nothing to prove.

And perhaps one day,

without either of us noticing,

the question of how

will matter less

than the fact

that I never left.

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

Sailboats (then / now)

Back then

we didn’t know the song was quiet enough

to hold a memory inside it.

We just pressed play

like high school kids do—

careless with time,

generous with afternoons,

believing closeness was permanent

because it was present.

We let the guitars drift through the room

like open windows facing the sea.

You listened beside me

as if staying was the most natural thing

in the world.

I didn’t know

I was memorizing you.

I thought

we were just listening.

Years later

the algorithm brings me a ghost—

an older version of the same song,

softer, rougher,

like it was recorded in a room

before either of us knew

how much we would need it.

And suddenly

I’m back there again.

Not in the place.

Not in the time.

Just in the feeling

of you being beside me

when the music started.

This version sounds like distance.

Like the first draft of something

that didn’t know

it would someday carry your name

inside my chest.

And I wish—

more than I expected to wish—

that I could send it to you

and say,

“Listen.

There was always another version of this song

waiting for us.”

But the song kept going

and we didn’t.

So now I sit here alone

hearing the earlier waves

of something we once shared later—

and it hurts

in the quietest possible way.

Because some discoveries

aren’t meant to be kept.

They’re meant

to be handed to someone

who isn’t there anymore.

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

No door left to open

I walked in with steady hands,

passport in my pocket,

dignity stitched into my spine.

I walked out

with fire in my chest

and a door slamming shut behind my ribs.

You called it “parinig.”

You called it petty.

You called me the villain in a story

you were too afraid to tell honestly.

I reposted words

because they felt like mine.

Because healing sometimes sounds like

someone else’s voice saying

what you can’t yet form.

But you turned my quiet into a weapon.

You turned my processing into accusation.

You turned my silence into proof.

And I stood there —

in front of your father,

in front of your blood —

choosing restraint

when disrespect begged for eruption.

That was the last gift you’ll ever get from me:

self-control.

I will not beg to be understood

by people committed to misunderstanding me.

I will not shrink

to fit inside a narrative

that makes you comfortable.

I will not return

to a house

where integrity is twisted

into manipulation.

Love was once an open door.

Today, it became a locked gate

with my name carved on the outside.

You can keep your accusations.

You can keep your version of me.

You can keep each other.

What you don’t get

is access.

Not to my patience.

Not to my dignity.

Not to a future I once left slightly ajar.

I walked out lighter.

And that is the only truth that matters.

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

Pathetic

[recaption]

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

don't swim

[retropicool]

[sadscent]

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

Let me go

[tuula-blog]

[minuty]

[legendarygalaxyenthusiast]

I hate everything

[drinkt0forget-deactivated202303]

[minuty]