failure

crushes i had no business having, but fully committed to anyway

the last story of 2025, and the moment i finally stopped letting noise pass as intimacy.

i almost downloaded the app (s?). instead i overthought men, women, and the infinite possibilities of heartbreak, and somehow survived. welcome to my brain.

he chose the wine, i smiled too hard, and somehow it felt exactly like i expected.

not about love. about what it triggers. about how silence feels when you are wired for disappearance. and how to unlearn the panic without shaming the part of you that still wants to be held.

he played bass. i played it cool. i thought i was the exception — turns out i was just the first. this is the story of long hair, secret looks, plastic mannequin hands, and the kind of connection that doesn’t end, even when the relationship does.

i kissed the wrong irish guy, woke up with the right one, and left while 50 cent played on a built-in tv. pandemic rules said i shouldn’t be outside. somehow, i survived.

he had a wife, a kid, and a folder where we stored our mistakes. this one’s not about heartbreak — it’s about waking up, sending one final message, and watching a grown man go completely silent.

not every lad that vanishes stays gone. this one liked falling from the sky and ignoring texts. we made a contract. he made an exit. this is the ghost who still flies over my balcony like he’s haunting something he barely touched.

he played cool music, took me up a mountain, and taught me to drink coffee without sugar — before muting me like a notification he didn’t want to deal with.