Month: May 2025

three bubbles indicating that another person is typing a text message

.. no need to respond, I just wanted you to know that I was thinking 

michelleLeave a comment

Well, if I’m being honest, there are moments when I do… miss you

There are days when I think about us.

It wasn’t all bad, you know.

You aren’t the easiest person to know; that doesn’t mean you aren’t worth knowing, though.

You were worth getting to know.

If you were ever to decide to open up and let people see you, they too would see that you were soft, as gentle as they come.

You cared about me, and you let me know this

so I never doubted it; funny, I don’t think I ever even wondered.

 Still, I confidently know that we were not meant to be— we would be, if that were the case.

It’s just that,

There are some moments when I just can’t help but wonder

What could have been?

What if one of us decided that they weren’t as right as they thought? 

What if one of us held up the white flag and finally said,” Fine, you win.”

What then? 

Lonely,

michelleLeave a comment

There is no one to choose despite this or that,

So it becomes easier to judge others for enduring.

There is no one to fight for, 

So giving up is easy.

There are a few you go out of your way for,

But most times, you really don’t have anything to do.

And while your music taste is quite exquisite, you wish someone could show you something new.

Lonely.

phone rings often, plans get made,

But you long to not always have to make plans.

You wonder what it’s like to just roll out of bed and face the day with someone.

Lonely.

You pack your things quickly, leaving is easy.

break-up texts get written in under a minute. 

There is no second-guessing, 

Not when there wasn’t anything to guess in the first place.

You embody casualness like you made the word.

Only strangers know you intimately. 

Those closest pretend to have an idea of what you are like. 

Small talk becomes the only type of talk; you forget that not all arguments are bad.

You never fight, so you call yourself peaceful.

It is quiet; it has always been quiet.

You tell yourself you never liked noise anyway.

Lonely.

the us. being in love- an experience by me,

michelleLeave a comment

Raw by Looney plays in the background. 

I think about the fear, the nervousness, and the excitement that we experience. 

A moment, every moment thereafter, the spark and electricity that illuminates and guides us for the rest of our lives. 

It’s the feeling, the part when your chest fills up as your stomach drops, and 

Gravity becomes more of a suggestion than 

–a world-renowned phenomenon. 

It’s staring at an orbiting sky and realizing you are in orbit too. 

And, letting it be.

It’s swimming through clouds, turning to your left, and seeing that face, 

That perfect face, for the first time- on the millionth day.

The eyes that move mountains and make problems disappear 

It’s a smile that ejects me into the stars, 

It’s the beauty mark, the scar, the dimple 

It’s their proof of life. The experience that has a story and is forever a part of them, told to me.

It’s knowing that they trust you with that context.

It’s actualizing the tapestry of their face. Each feature provides a moment for you to exhale–freely.

Suddenly, you have never breathed so deeply, you have never been so… full.

It’s them and their presence that makes you feel so light, like a clover being propelled by breaths of wishes and hopes for good luck 

It’s witnessing while experiencing the good luck and knowing it’s yours and for you alone 

It’s like the sunset that you can only watch 

The first sip of my favourite drink 

That is what the fear, the nervousness, the excitement, feels like.

It’s the crescendo of Japanese Denim by Daniel Caesar before he lullabies us to ease. 

It’s them, it’s you, it’s falling into

the us.

Grief is weird.

michelleLeave a comment

Sometimes I wonder if it belongs to me 

It comes with a lot of responsibility 

My pain is something I no longer desire to feel, but the memories are everything to me.

I wish they didn’t have to coexist all the time. 

I carry the memories for both of us, which feels like a lot of responsibility. It’s like I am the only living proof of a love that existed. 

It makes me feel like I have to defend it more, like I have to prove that it existed. 

I have never enjoyed having to prove myself, especially with something like this.

But then again, I remind myself that there is nothing to prove. The memories are memories because they happened, once upon a time, that was my current reality.

But this realization also makes me sick to my stomach because I remember that this was, at a time, my reality. This was what life was like, a painful reminder that this is no more.

My memories carry everything and the weight of all the emotions. The picture shows us smiling, but my memories go beyond the smiles.

It remembers the insecurity, the questioning of whether I was enough, if the connection was enough, and so it becomes difficult again.

It becomes difficult to feel the pain, the weight, and the grief again. It becomes difficult, and I find myself in the same cycle, waiting, waiting, and wondering if the grief belongs to me. 

Waiting for someone to give me the green light, the go-ahead to feel this pain. This loss. To break down at the reality that I hate to accept. 

I hate that the person I find myself waiting for permission from is gone.

I wish I could have talked to you one last time. If I could, I would tell you this: 

I wish we could have caught up and just sat together.

I would have told you everything; I have no doubt that you would have done the same. 

I hate that I hesitate to miss you. I wish I could ask you how much our friendship meant to you. Is it selfish for me to want to hear you say that you loved me? 

I wish I could remember every single moment we shared, even the insignificant ones.

I wish I had a recording of all the nights we spent talking and sharing things we were too scared to say in the daylight.

I hate that we never closed the gap and distance between us. I really wish we could have seen each other one last time. 

It doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. It doesn’t catch my breath and break my stance. 

But my heart throbs softly every day. Any time I remember, I feel it more 

The shock of realizing that you are gone and knowing what that means 

Knowing that you don’t walk around anymore, knowing that there are so many of us who think about you and miss you every day 

I just can’t believe it. This was not how it was supposed to go 

I love life, but I hate it at the same time. I hate that this is it. I hate that I have to just keep going 

I hate that it doesn’t stop or give us a break 

Even when you really, truly, deserve it. 

I find myself wondering what it is all for, what is the reason 

I wonder if there is any

I understand why people pray, 

why some look at crystals, 

and, why others just numb it away 

I wonder if, now knowing this, you would grant me my grief.

I am realizing that some things don’t have answers, not because there aren’t any, but maybe because the purpose is not to be understood. 

Maybe we are not meant to know; all we are meant to do is wake up and do what needs to be done. Until one day we don’t wake up.

I guess that is what it is 

I wonder if it all makes sense when we get to the end. When our timer runs out, our curtains close. Is there a moment when it all makes sense? 

I hope it all made sense to you when your curtains closed. I hope that all that felt unfinished was complete for you.