#asleavesfall

[asleavesfall]

His presence didn’t demand anything from me - it just made space. And in that space, I softened. I stopped bracing for the worst. I stopped apologizing for needing gentleness. I think that’s what love is, the real kind. The kind that doesn’t arrive with fireworks but with quiet hands and steady eyes. The kind that doesn’t ask you to be more, but reminds you that you already are.

[asleavesfall]

Everything good in my life would come from my ability to leave everything I once knew.

[asleavesfall]

As Leaves Fall.

[asleavesfall]

I am forgetting.

I am forgetting everything.

It started with small things - where I left my glasses, the name of that song you used to hum while cooking. I laughed it off at first. Everyone forgets. But then it grew. The forgetting became a fog, thick and slow, curling around the corners of my mind.

Yesterday, I found an old diary in the back of my closet. The leather was cracked, the pages yellowed. I didn’t remember writing in it, but the handwriting was mine - looped and uneven, the way it always was when I was excited or nervous.

I flipped through the pages until one stopped me cold.

“Tonight, I told you I loved you. You didn’t say it back right away. You just looked at me, like you were trying to memorize the moment. And then you smiled. That smile. You said, ‘I was waiting for you to say it first.’ I think I’ll remember this forever.”

I read it again. And again.

But it felt like I was reading about someone else’s life.

Someone braver. Someone who once knew how to love without fear.

I tried to picture your face in that moment.

I tried to hear your voice.

But all I could summon was a vague warmth, like sunlight through a closed window.

No details. No edges. Just the ghost of a feeling.

I sat there for a long time, holding the diary like it might anchor me to something real.

But the truth settled in quietly, like dust:

I am forgetting you.

Not just your face or your voice,

but the way it felt to be yours.

And the worst part?

I don’t know if I’m more afraid of forgetting everything,

or remembering just enough to know what I’ve lost.

[asleavesfall]

[asleavesfall]

[asleavesfall]

I think I left too many things unattended. Tiny things, quiet things, pieces of myself I told I’d come back for later. And now I don’t even remember what they were. I just know something’s missing. Like a shadow in a corner you can’t see but you feel.

The memories are blurred but the feelings... they’ve stayed. They’ve taken root in me, tangled and restless, like vines climbing over walls I never meant to abandon. Sometimes it feels like my whole chest is just a room filled with loose threads, none of them tied, all of them pulling at me at once.

And it’s strange, how you can forget the reasons but still carry the weight.

[asleavesfall]

i think i’m finally starting to understand the way you love. quiet. inconsistent. at arm’s length. you never said it, but it was always clear - you loved in moments, not in commitments. not in staying. and for a long time, i tried to meet you there. i tried to be okay with the silence, with the delays, with the way you never really let me all the way in. i kept convincing myself that scraps were enough. that maybe love was supposed to feel like guessing. like waiting. like shrinking. but it’s not. and i’m only realizing that now because i’m exhausted. not just from you - from who i’ve become around you. i don’t blame you for not loving me the way i needed. but it hurts, because i would have given you everything. i did. and you barely noticed. the worst part is - i’m starting to change now. i’m becoming the quiet one. the one who doesn’t reach out. the one who doesn’t expect much. and i hate that. because that’s not who i am. but it’s who i had to become to stop breaking over you. so when i finally stop caring out loud, when i stop trying, when i love you the way you’ve always loved me... i hope you’re okay. i hope it doesn’t hurt. and if it doe, i hope you finally understand what it’s like to be loved by someone who never lets you in but never lets you go.