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Almost June again, but it is not the same June. The evenings still arrive softly. Rain still gathers on the windows like it remembers something. The sky still turns that familiar shade of blue before nightfall. But something in me has changed since then. Last June felt softer somehow. Even the uncertainty felt gentle because you were still woven into those days with me. We spoke about the future as if it were something waiting patiently for us, as if time would understand. Now June returns like a familiar street after years away. Recognizable, but quieter. The places are still there, yet the feeling feels lifetimes away. I think that is the strange thing about losing people and learning to heal. The world keeps repeating itself, the same months, the same seasons, the same songs playing somewhere in the distance, but you return to them as someone entirely different. Almost June again. But not the same June. And maybe not the same me either. M. May 2026

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“Hey, are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you for asking.” He says thank you whenever I ask if he is okay. Each time, he sounds a little surprised, like the question itself is unfamiliar. Then he softly thanks me for checking in, like it means more than such a small question should. I once asked him why he always says thank you. He told me he is not used to it. No one really asks him that. I do not know what to do with that realization, so I simply sit with it. Because somewhere between his thank you and my silence, I begin noticing what I am doing too. I keep apologizing to him. Sorry I feel like this. Sorry I’m like this. As if my emotions need to become acceptable before they are allowed to exist between us. He says thank you for being seen. I say sorry because I am afraid of being too much. And I only understand the contrast because it keeps happening between us. Maybe even in the way we love each other, we are still learning each other’s language, slowly and gently, like two souls trying to remember what home feels like. And somewhere between his gratitude and my apology, we are both quietly trying to protect the very things that undo us and keep us going. M. | of sword & armour May 2026

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“Hey,” I was away again, somewhere deep inside my mind. I tend to get caught in there longer than I realize. Have you been here long? I never mean to disappear this way, but my mind is a place where I can get lost for hours, days, sometimes even weeks. I suppose it depends on which doors open and which ones I wander through. Sometimes, it is a beautiful place, full of wildflowers and soft breezes, and I linger there too long, breathing in its beauty until evening begins to fall and the world calls me back. And I come back carrying the scent of blooming fields and the peace they give me. But more often, a different door opens, and I do not notice the change until the light has already shifted. I find myself in dark streets where hooded figures linger in corners, trembling as though something is coming for them. The air there smells like hospital corridors, sterile and cold, heavy with something already being lost. The lights hum like tired stars above me. Somewhere in the distance, something beeps in uneven rhythms, like a heart refusing to give up. And somewhere among those dim corridors, I always find a quieter version of myself, still waiting for someone to notice she is tired. I think that is why it takes me so long to come back sometimes. Because some corners of my mind do not let me leave so easily once I have wandered into them. I wish I could say all of this to him, but it would come out too long, too tangled, and I do not want to pull him into that world. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I don’t really know how to explain where I was.” He doesn’t interrupt me. He just waits. And then he says, gently, “It’s okay. Tell me everything. I have time.” M. | Wildflowers and Hospital Corridors May 2026

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We keep talking about the future as if it is a place we can bargain with. “Maybe one day.” “Maybe when the timing is kinder.” “Maybe when life stops asking so much from us.” What if, after everything, it still does not work out for us? At least we will know we tried. At least we loved each other honestly, even when the timing was uncertain and the future kept slipping through our hands. And maybe for now, all we can do is stay here in this fragile “what if” phase, somewhere between hope and letting go, between now and forever. Because somewhere along the way, we became each other’s definition of what love should feel like. So we remain here, loving each other in our own unique, little ways, hoping the universe is not cruel enough to let two people feel this much only to become strangers again in the end. M. | if this does not last, it still happened May 2026

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I’ve learned that fear could enter the room without love leaving it. It changed my reality, but it did not change what I felt. It did not change him as someone I fell in love with. It only changed the shape of the road ahead of us. What once felt certain suddenly became unfamiliar, a little farther away, a little harder to reach. Not impossible. Just no longer easy. Perhaps that is what I am also learning now. You can be sure of someone, and even sure of yourself, and still feel vulnerable. You can love with trust and still carry uncertainty in your chest. Those two things can exist together. And with him, I learned that peak intimacy is a calm nervous system. It was the way my body and mind responded to him. Because I no longer think intimacy can only be found in the loud things people talk about. Not in intensity. Not in obsession. Not even in always knowing what to say. It is finally being able to unclench around someone. Not constantly waiting for them to leave, change their mind, or make you earn their love all over again. It is the quietness of feeling safe while being loved. The kind of safety that reaches your body before your mind can even explain it. And maybe that is why, even after everything changed, my feelings did not. Because loving him still feels like peace, even when everything else feels uncertain. M. | him & soft love May 2026

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Heartbreak is almost always written as something loud. Like crying in the shower, screaming into pillows, breaking in ways people can immediately recognize. But sometimes it is just sitting at work with a chest full of ruins, listening to people speak, carrying conversations, carrying responsibilities, carrying everyone else gently, still pretending you are present when half of you is somewhere else trying not to fall apart. And the funny thing is, the world does not stop for it. The emails still come. People still need things from you. Morning still arrives. Lately, I keep wishing I could take my thoughts apart one by one, searching for the exact thing inside me that refuses to heal, and remove it gently without ruining the rest of me. Maybe then I would finally know what it feels like to exist without carrying this much heaviness inside me. Maybe then I could become someone softer to live with. M. | heartbreak on paper May 2026.

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In the most selfish way, I hope no one ever memorizes you the way I did. I hope no one notices the small shifts in your voice when you are tired, or learns which silences mean sadness and which ones simply mean you need space. I hope no one loves the parts of you I loved so intimately that they became part of my own existence. I hope no one else could ever make you feel about them the way you felt about me. And in the same selfish way, I hope no one else could ever make you crave or yearn like you did for me. Because losing you is already unbearable. The thought of being easily replaced inside your heart would destroy me twice. M. | May 2026

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