#love loudly

[love-romance-relationships]

[poetry-protest-pornography]

You should be a little bit in love with your friends, btw

You should let yourself feel and share big feelings and imagine futures together

You should let them see how important they are to you

Don't keep your love in boxes to be metered out in specific amounts decided by predetermined relationship labels

Love your friends loudly, and let them love you back the same

[ncuts]

[sunk133]

Guys I craved to be loved loudly ngl. Like name in bio, match, make ppl sick of my name cus you say it sm, etc. The things I'd do for a person to do that. Tongue, hand, whatever action you want you shall receive. Matter of fact, lets get married rn fr, mine now.

[jesterinlove]

Love is fickle

The painful thing about love is that it is capricious. Love is not a reward to be given or earned. You can meet the right person, and they do everything right. They are everything you ever wanted, but love won't arrive. You can love someone with all your heart and do all the things right. You can be everything they ever wanted, but love can't be earned. Love is a moody fae. She appears shy and sudden. Her wings are fragile and can be broken with one wrong touch. She appears slow, but can't be caught. And worst of all, sometimes she decides to stick to the side of the people we should hate the most. Even if we understand that we should shoo her away - for our own good. I am not strong enough to push that weak fairy away, even though I want to.

[allyeardailysong]

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃

𝐍𝐌𝐈𝐗𝐗

6/1/2026

152nd song of the year!

[spicy-sodaa]

You think I can understand you, but you’ve never even given me a chance to.

Being open is scary, but vulnerability is so important.

[spiritual-aesthetiic]

It’s 12:56 a.m. on January 3rd, and missing him feels unbearable tonight. but it hasn’t just been tonight. it’s been every hour of the past thirty three days, growing heavier instead of lighter. thirty three slow, miserable days that go by like time is punishing me on purpose. every day feels like someone has driven a knife into my chest and left it there, twisting it just enough to remind me that this pain isn’t quite done with me yet.

i miss him in a way that feels constant. not loud, not overbearing, but always there. a heaviness i carry with me throughout the day that i’ve become quite used to. it’s such a strange thing, going from being someone’s person, knowing every detail of their day, to being a stranger who only knows what they choose to show. social media posts. sparce conversations. pieces of a life I used to be woven into.

i’m lying in his bed — back in the bedroom I lived in eight years ago in my parents’ apartment — while he lies in mine, in the apartment we chose together when he was still sure of me. god, if we could’ve seen ourselves like this back then, I think it would’ve destroyed us. knowing how we’d end up, even while still missing each other.

i always thought the nights would be the worst part, and they are awful. lying here alone, wishing i could fall asleep with his arm around me, listening to his snoring, his sleep talking, even his breathing. hearing him say “goodnight, I love you,” and turning around to him already prepared for my kiss. holding his arm while we fall asleep like that safety could never leave me. i didn’t know how fragile it all was.

but nights aren’t what hurt the most, it’s the hours between waking up and getting ready for bed. waking up from dreams where he’s still my sweet boy, where loving each other feels easy, where i can look into his kind eyes, where I don’t have to wonder what he’s thinking of me. waking up and remembering that the day ahead will be long and empty and missing the one person I would still choose over and over again.

it’s the way my chest tightens when i drive past his car. the way every song somehow becomes about him. the way I catch myself thinking he’d be eating the cookie dough straight from the bowl while i’m baking, or wondering if he’s eaten dinner, wishing I could cook for him one more time. taking care of him was one of my favorite things. i know i failed in some ways, i know i dropped the ball, but loving him like that was never something i questioned. it was always something i looked forward to.

and maybe that’s the cruelest part of all. wanting someone who isn’t sure. loving someone who doesn’t know what they want. standing still while they decide whether or not to choose you again. disguising the empty feeling with hope. it’s the most loving thing you can do, and the most heartbreaking, to offer someone certainty while they live in doubt, to keep your heart open to someone who may never fully step back into it. and somehow, even knowing that, i still love him. i still crave him. and maybe that makes me a fool, but if loving and being sure of someone makes me a fool, then i think i can live with that.