Langsung ke konten utama

The Weight of Your Name


 

I love you, and it is ruining my life.

That sounds unfair to say, because the truth is that you have done nothing wrong. You have never intentionally hurt me, never made promises you could not keep, never asked me to give you more than you were willing to give in return. if anything, this is entirely my fault. You simply existed, and somehow my heart decided to build a home around you.

At first, loving you felt easy. It slipped into my life so naturally that i barely noticed it happening. There was no dramatic moment, no sudden realization that changed everything overnight. Instead, it arrived quietly. It was in the way i started looking forward to talking to you, the way is started looking forward to talking to you, the way certain moments felt brighter when you were around, and the way my mood could improve simply because i knew i would see you. What began as affection slowly grew into something deeper, something heavier, something i could no longer control.

The problem with loving someone is that the feeling rarely stays in the place where it began. It spreads. It reaches into parts of your life that have nothing to do with them. Suddenly they become part of your routines, your thoughts, your plans, and your expectations. Without realizing it, i started measuring my days by your presence. A bad day was a day that felt distant from you. My happiness became tied to things i could not control, and that is where everything started to unravel.

I think what ruins me most is how often i think about you. It happens without permission. I can be busy with work, focused on something important, completely occupied with my own life, somehow my thoughts still find their way back to you. Something reminds me of a conversation we had. A song sounds like something you would enjoy. A joke makes me wonder whether you would laugh at it. It feels as though my mind has developed a habit it refuses to break.

There are days when i resent that. I resent how much space you occupy inside me. I resent how easily my mood can be affected by something as small as a delayed reply or a brief conversation. I resent that someone who may have no idea what they mean to me can have such influence over my emotional world. Most of all,  resent that i cannot simply decide to stop.

People often describe love as something that sets them free, but nobody talks enough about how love can become a cage when it grows larger than the place it is meant to live. It can fill every corner of your life until there is barely room for anything else. You begin to carry it everywhere. You carry it into you mornings, into your sleepless nights, into conversations, that have nothing to do with the person you love. Even when they are absent, they remain present in ways that are difficult to explain.

What makes this feeling so complicated is that i do not actually want to lose it. If loving you only hurt, walking away would be easy. If it were nothing but disappointment and longing, i could convince myself to let go. But loving you is also one of the most beautiful things i have ever experienced. It has made me feel alive in ways i had forgotten were possible. It has made ordinary moments feel meaningful. It has given me reasons to smile where i had none.

That is why it is ruining my life. Not because it is ugly, but because it is beautiful enough to stay. Because every time i think i should move on, i remember all the reasons i fell for you in the first place. Every time i try to create distance, i find myself wanting to be closer. Every time i tell myself to be realistic, my heart quietly chooses hope instead.

Maybe one day this feeling will become smaller. Maybe time will teach me how to carry it without letting it consume me. Maybe there will come a day when i can think about you without feeling my chest tighten, when your name will simply be a memory rather than a longing. I would like to believe that day exists.

But today, i am still here. Still loving you more than i should. Still finding pieces of you in places where you do not belong. Still wondering how someone can become so important without ever meaning to.

And that is the tragedy of it all. You are not ruining my life.

I love you, and that is what is ruining my life.

Postingan populer dari blog ini

the threshold of endings and dawns

the feeling lives like a weather system inside the ribcage: low, slow clouds that never quite break, and a wind that keeps rearranging the furniture of attention. sometimes it sounds like an apology you never meant to speak; sometimes it is a list of small betrayals, of rooms left cold, of songs that used to fit and now pull like a shirt too small. there are moments when the weight is a map, precise and patient, folding around each plan you might make and smoothing it out like a paper boat that will never touch water. words come in fragments: a single image, the taste of salt on the tongue after crying, the way a streetlight looks like a question, the memory of a laugh that used to fit the shape of your day. there is a pulse beneath the wanting to stop and the wanting to keep going: a little residue of hunger for something that makes less sense than a horizon. it is not always dramatic. often it is quiet and domestic: the reluctance to open a closet, the decision to leave the dishes u...
Read more »

The Quiet Bloom of Wings

One day, wings will grow. Not suddenly, not with fire or thunder, but slowly, almost imperceptibly. They will take shape in silence, through nights that stretch too long and mornings that feel impossible. They will form not from magic, but from endurance. Every time the heart keeps beating when it feels too heavy, every time the spirit chooses to rise again after falling, a feather takes shape. They are not wings of escape, but wings of transformation, born from survival. For a long time, the world has felt like a cage. Trauma has carved walls around the soul, and depression has locked the doors. The weight of memory, the echo of old wounds, the sharpness of shame, these are the chains that have kept everything grounded. In such moments, flight feels like fantasy. Peace seems like something other people are allowed to touch, never meant for the one carrying all this unseen weight. Yet even in the deepest dark, something endures. A flicker. A thread. Perhaps it is a fleeting laugh tha...
Read more »

The Broken Giver

Can anything still be given, when the edges are worn down to dust? When the insides feel rusted through and the outside no longer resembles anything that once meant softness or care. When the hands don’t feel like hands anymore, just extensions of movement, burned-out tools repeating forgotten gestures. There was warmth once, long ago. Something bright that lived in the chest, moved in the fingertips, opened wide for the world. But now it's all bone and echoes. Cold that doesn’t hurt anymore, just stays. Silence that doesn’t surprise. The heart keeps going, not with hope or longing, but with the dull inertia of things that haven’t figured out how to stop. There is no clean thing left. No untouched part to offer. Everything has been used up, scraped thin. Kindness, when it comes, feels like imitation. A performance done without audience, out of memory, not meaning. Still, the reaching happens, like a muscle twitching after death. Not because there’s belief in it, but because stopp...
Read more »