#bittoopersonal

[the-silent-voices]

You didn’t owe me anything. But you stayed. You listened, you made the pain quieter without asking for anything in return. You were just kind. And somehow, your kindness became the safest place I knew. I didn’t plan to feel this. Didn’t want to complicate something so pure. But healing beside you blurred all my lines. Now I smile at you like nothing’s changed, while my heart folds itself smaller, trying to hide how much it aches just to stay close. You were just kind. And I… I fell for you quietly.

[the-silent-voices]

Dreams

I love him in my own way. Not necessarily romantically, but above all as a person. He is kind, an amazing person. There’s something broken inside him, yet he keeps going. I admire him. I want to be close. I want to make him happy when he feels sad. I want to encourage him when he wants to give up. I don’t want anything from him—maybe just for him to let me stay close.

You return to my life for a few hours, but you're only a shadow of what I once longed for. I was sure I had let you go so that I could finally be happy too, and yet it seems I’ve fallen into the same situations… Will I ever learn? Probably not. But loving is a part of life. So is dreaming.

I feel a connection with him, something deep and unspoken. I can’t describe it, but I sense that he feels it too. We don’t want to change it—or maybe I would, but I’m too scared. He doesn’t change it either, so maybe it’s for the best. I love him in my own broken way. Not like I loved you—back then, you were home. You were everything. And now, I no longer have the courage to love with such abandon. It hurts the soul too much.

If I can just brighten his day, it will be a success—a small victory. That’s what life is about, isn’t it?

I’m afraid of loneliness. Terrified that I’ll stay alone—broken, unwanted, unlovable. I’m scared to fall into the darkness of my own mind. I want colors, scents, images, sounds, melodies. I want hope that it will get better. I want to know that I’ll make it.

But you won’t tell me that. And neither will he. And even if you did, I probably wouldn’t believe you.

Tell me, when will I really let you go? When will I truly understand that some people are meant to stay only in our hearts and memories?

[the-silent-voices]

The Future That Wasn’t

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the ocean. Waves crashed against the cliff below, their thunderous rhythm echoing in the distance. I sat on a large stone, gazing out at the endless horizon. The sound of the water, the salty breeze against my skin — it was a picturesque scene. Yet inside me, there was nothing but a quiet ache. Months had passed since he left. The job we had shared, the small moments together that made my heart race — it all felt like a dream I couldn’t quite hold onto. And still, I found myself searching for him everywhere. How many times had I waited for him to pass by? For that fleeting moment when our eyes would meet, when the smile he gave me would be enough to keep my heart beating fast for the rest of the day. My coworker, my friend. We had spent years working side by side, and every time he walked into a room, the world seemed to brighten. But for me, he was so much more - he was everything. I spent years — building a version of him in my mind. The perfect version, the one I convinced myself he would eventually become… if only I waited long enough. The kind of person who would finally see me — really see me — not just as a colleague, but as a partner. A companion. I fell in love with that idea. With the future we could’ve had — one I had written out in my mind, scene by scene. Every conversation, every moment, carefully placed. The problem was, he was never part of that future. He never intended to be. He was always kind, always attentive — good friend. He never gave me more than breadcrumbs of attention. He flirted, yes, but never enough to make me feel like it could lead anywhere. And still, I held on to the promise — the one my heart had written for him. I told myself that maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for the right time to realize how perfect we could be together. But the truth was always there, lingering in the background: He was never going to be the version I wanted him to be. And I wasn’t in love with him. I was also in love with him. But I was also in love with the possibility of him — with what we could become, with the life we might have shared. With the real person — the one who made me laugh, who saw the world in a way that lit something up in me. He is kind, charismatic, full of potential and light. There were so many beautiful things about him that I genuinely loved. But somewhere along the way, I began clinging more tightly to the idea of him — to the future I had built in my mind. It wasn’t just love. It was a dream I wove around reality. I didn’t even realize how deeply that story had taken root in my heart until the day he told me he was leaving the city. It felt like the ground was crumbling beneath me. The future I had imagined — one with him in it — began to fall apart, piece by piece, as I watched him pack his things… and listened to him speak about a new chapter that didn’t include me. Yet, I kept hoping, believing, that one day he’d turn around and finally see me — really see me. But that day will never come. I had been mourning someone who wasn’t entirely real. I had to let that version go. And in doing so, I had to begin the slow, painful process of healing. I sang quietly to myself for comfort, thinking… I had spent too long trying to become someone I wasn’t — someone I hoped he would notice, maybe even love.Waiting for a future that would never come. It was time to stop chasing a fantasy. It was time to let go. I let the tears fall — not only from sorrow, but from release. And for the first time in months… I felt something like relief.

[the-silent-voices]

Unwanted

Today, my heart feels heavy.

I’m sitting outside, hoping that he will come. I know he won’t—he has no reason to—but I still hope. I keep looking toward the direction he might appear, even though I know it’s pointless.

Why do I do this to myself?

Why do I keep investing time and hope into something that only brings sadness and disappointment?

My foolish heart—why do you do this to me?

So here I sit, lost in thought.

I start to wonder where "you" end and "he" begins.

“You” are a tangled creation of my hopes and dreams, the illusion that morphed into something imaginary and safe. "You" also used to be "he" in different times in my life. Confusing, isn’t it? So, if I were to be honest, I write these unread words to my hopes and dreams. For the ache inside that refuses to fade. And he—like the others before—slowly becomes part of this blur called you. Like small drops of water, merging into one.

I’m writing these words to a version of you that only exists in my mind—an illusion, not the real you. This version listens without consequence, without judgment. Because the truth is, I can’t—or maybe I just don’t want to—say these things to the real you.

Sometimes, I think I’m more afraid of rejection than loneliness. Because at least loneliness is familiar. And deep down, I know my words wouldn’t change anything. He wouldn’t suddenly see me differently—it would only make things more complicated. He might start avoiding me, maybe even without realizing it. I’d become like a street vendor holding something he doesn’t want—polite smile, faster steps.

I keep thinking about today’s lunch—the moment it was just the two of us, sitting in silence. A girl stopped by briefly and said something. He smiled at her, but after she left, he muttered that she was kind of annoying. And then, silence again.

And when someone else joined the table, I saw it - the relief in his eyes. And if I’m honest… I felt it too.

It’s not always like this, but today left me with a lingering sadness.

What if, one day, I become the annoying one to him?

I wish I could be more. I wish I could at least stay close. Even as friends. No matter how much I hope, I know he will never see me the way I wish he would.

And I always feel worse knowing he has someone by his side—no matter what their situation is—because I know there is no place for me next to him. There never will be. I shouldn’t even be thinking about any of this.

So why do I hope?

Why can’t I just let go?

Maybe… maybe I just want to truly matter to someone.

If not to myself, then at least to someone else.

Like that day at the bus stop—to be seen. Just for a moment. To be heard.

But here I am—sitting alone, crying—still looking in that same direction. Still hoping.

I know he sensed that something was wrong with me. Again. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. He just let me walk away.

Maybe it’s okay. Maybe he knows I need space.

Or maybe… maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it.

People don’t want the broken ones.

We’re... complicated. Not always worth the trouble.

And I am broken.

Hardly worth it.

But still—

I hope.

[the-silent-voices]

Good news

Today, you casually mentioned that you proposed to her. And the first thing I felt was pure, sincere happiness. I truly am happy that you’ve found someone who makes you happy.

But if I’m being honest, now I feel a little sad. Not because you’re happy with her. It’s just… I’m afraid I might never find that kind of happiness for myself. I know not every love story has a happy ending, but at least they have their beautiful moments, right? I’d really like to have that. Still, I truly wish you—both of you—nothing but the best. May you be happy together and strong enough to face whatever life throws your way.

You asked how I was, and you meant it sincerely. And, as always, I said I was fine. Nothing new, nothing interesting. The truth? I’m better than I was a few weeks ago.. But I know I’m not out of it yet. It’s like walking on ice—it cracks, but it holds. Sometimes, it breaks a little beneath me, but I manage. Fake it until you make it, right?

He keeps me feeling better without even knowing it. He became my personal Patronus against sadness. With him, I laugh. Truly laugh.

I know most of these feelings exist only in my own heart. I know he’s just naturally kind, effortlessly warm. Empathetic, funny, thoughtful, caring. I could go on. And even though my feelings for him ache—because they make me question myself, make me feel like I should be better, more interesting, more... something—I know I’m a small part of his world, and damn, it’s nice to feel that.

And I fight, with everything in me, to strip my feelings of anything romantic. Because it wouldn’t make sense. He already has someone. And because, well… I’m just me. I’d love to say I’m complex and intriguing, but truly I’m just… ordinary.

I’m just trying to shape this love into something different. Because the truth is, I do love him. And when I try to bury it, it only hurts more. It fights against me. So instead, I’m learning to love him for the incredible person he is—without expectation, without need.

I can’t quite explain it. Sometimes, I think we understand each other on a different level. And then, gently, he pushes me away again. Yet, every time I make him smile, my heart leaps, warmth spreads through me—a small victory. He keeps his distance, and I try my best not to cross that line.

"And that’s okay. It is what it is. That’s how it has to be. It’s easier this way." - I say myself. And I’m really grateful he doesn’t lead me on—because he could. And I’d jump in without hesitation. Because I want more, even when I am not supposed to.

I’d love to remain a good memory in his life—just as I have in yours. After all, you let me stay, even after you left. Because that’s what really matters to me. To leave behind something good.

As for everything else—I have to learn to live with myself, embrace my broken parts, and create something good out of them.

[the-silent-voices]

Smile

It’s been a week since we saw each other. After months, seeing your face again felt strange. We don’t meet often—you’ve become just a voice on the phone, distant. I watched your new silver hair, your face, your eyes, and that smile that used to make my knees weak. You’ve become a stranger. It no longer hurts to see you, and what’s more important—it no longer hurts when you leave.

I can still see what I once adored, and maybe if we spent more time together, something might return. But I don’t want that anymore. Both him and you have something in common. I know it has no future, but making both of you happy brings me joy.

You broadened my horizons. I discovered so many new things, and thanks to your support, I found the courage to take on things I never would have otherwise. He is like a safe place for me. Just his presence has a calming effect on my mind. I never know what to say, and I can’t find an excuse to be close and feel that peace. But just looking at him makes me feel good. Just like you, he gives me that feeling of being... home.

And it hurts when you both leave, so easily and carelessly, because I’m the only one who feels that way. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for something more, but I know it won’t happen. I know I’m not the right one. And even though you both are what I want, I’m not what you are looking for.

Instead of trying to get better, I drown in pain and disillusionment. I don’t want to feel this way. I want to feel like I have value—that my soul, no matter how it is, is beautiful in its own way. I want so badly to be above it all, not to care whether I’m even a pleasant part of your life or his. I don’t know how to stand out, I don’t know how to say anything funny, there’s nothing exceptional about me, no matter how much I’d like there to be.

I want to love and be loved. I want to feel whole, happy, and for the pain to stop. I want to learn to love myself—not just superficially by being kind to myself, but truly. I want to look in the mirror and say, "You’re amazing," and actually believe it. Truly believe it.

I say it often, and I’ll say it again—I want you to be truly happy. And I want him to be truly happy, too. And I hope he finds a truly exceptional soul in this world, someone who brings him the same happy smile you have when you’re with her. And maybe, one day, someone will smile at me like that too. And I will be happy.

[the-silent-voices]

Squeal

Today feels better. I visited a friend I've known for years. I've watched her fall in love, get married, and now, she and her husband have the most adorable daughter. Kids are amazing; they're a challenge, but her joyful squeal when she saw me at the door sent my serotonin skyrocketing. She showed me all her toys and told me everything she could manage.

She's barely two years old, but I know her joy and emotions are genuine. Her life is so short, everything is new, and there's so much she has to learn—how to communicate, understand, count, recognize colors, shapes, and animals. Yet, she delights in life, unburdened by the past, focused only on the future.

Life is precious, even when it doesn’t feel that way. When I have heavy thoughts, I remind myself how incredible it is that we’re here, in this moment. Life can be sad, painful, even unbearable at times. But I’m grateful for every chance to discover something new about it. Watching the seasons change, clouds drift across the sky, water flow, flowers bloom—it’s all a reminder of the beauty around us. Seeing my friends’ lives transform—from a young girl to a mother—is inspiring.

Sometimes I wish I could think less and perceive more. To stop overanalyzing and simply flow like water. Life can be beautiful, though it depends on perspective. For one person, something might mean the entire universe, while for another, it’s not even worth a second glance.

I'm a little scared of tomorrow. I’m excited for it, but at the same time, it’s sad to be close to someone you like, yet feel like just another person in the crowd. Selfishly, I wish I could matter a little more, ideally a little more each day. But that’s not how it works, is it? It is what it is, even though it could be better.

And that’s okay. I’ll be okay too.

[the-silent-voices]

Luxury

Today, I went for a walk in the woods, alone. I was scared, but I needed a change of air; it feels suffocating at home. I wished someone had been there with me, and I felt sad that they weren't. But the cold air helped. I enjoyed the winter forest, even without snow. I liked walking along the river; I liked having that little piece of the world all to myself. At home, though, the suffocating feeling returned... When will it end?

I feel like screaming my emotions out into the world, hoping that balloon of feelings might shrink, and I'd find it easier to breathe.

That evening, when I allowed myself to be vulnerable for the first time in a long while, he told me he'd always make time to talk. It sounds so beautiful, having someone to lean on. But I don't have a way to contact him or the courage to do so, and given the circumstances, that wouldn't be wise. He is a luxury I can't afford to get used to.

With you, it was different. With you, I never allowed myself to open my soul. I don't know why it's different with him. I'm afraid he'll only see the darkness I carry now, that he won't see that I can also be strong, radiant, someone who loves life and can appreciate its beauty. Because I am, just not right now.

I’m scared of being alone. I'm afraid I'll always be the last one—always the one who reassures others that their loved ones are safely home, always the one walking in the rain, crying.

I want to hint at the truth, that in part, even unintentionally, he is present in my tears. But I'll mess it up. I'll lose even the little I have left.

Maybe if I create some distance, it'll get easier. I mustn't focus on him; I need to occupy my thoughts with something else.

Please, let this end.