u/Prize-Pin-592

Lately, I’ve been struggling with this more than I want to admit.
I thought time would make it easier. I thought the feelings would quiet down, that I’d wake up one day and you wouldn’t be the first thing on my mind. But they haven’t faded. If anything, I feel more lost in them than before.
Even the letters I write to you have changed. They used to hold the things I couldn’t say aloud. Now they come out scrambled, confused, sometimes angry. I write a few lines, stare at them, hate how they sound, and delete them. I’ve deleted more letters than I’ve kept because I can’t make any of this come out right.
How do I explain missing someone I was never really allowed to have? Caring this much when nothing actually happened? How do I put words to something that lives almost entirely inside me?
Sometimes I’m angry because I wish I could turn it off. Sometimes I’m angry at myself for still hoping. Sometimes I’m angry at you, even though you haven’t done anything wrong.
That’s the hardest part. There is nowhere for all of this to go, so it stays inside me, in thoughts I rewrite, words I delete, and letters you’ll probably never read.
But beneath all the confusion, one thing remains:
I care about you.
More deeply than I ever expected to. And despite everything I’ve told myself, that hasn’t faded with time.
If I could tell you one thing without being afraid of what it might change, it would be this: you mattered to me. You still do.
Somewhere along the way, you became someone I carried with me, even when you weren’t there. I never needed you to fix anything or give me something you couldn’t give. I just wish you could know that what I felt was real, even if it only ever existed on my side.
I don’t know what happens to these feelings. I only know they’re still here.
And so am I, still caring, still wondering, still writing words you’ll probably never see.
Maybe one day I’ll stop. Maybe I’ll stop looking for reasons to think of you, wondering what might have happened if things had been different, or imagining conversations that will never happen. Maybe I’ll learn to see you without feeling the ache I’ve carried for so long.
But even if I let you go, it won’t mean I stopped loving you. It will only mean I finally understood that loving someone doesn’t always mean you get to keep them.
You may never know how many nights I spent writing to you instead of sleeping, how many letters I deleted, or how often I almost told you everything before deciding silence was safer.
You may never know there was a version of me that would have chosen you without hesitation, or that while I was trying to get over you, part of me was still hoping you’d give me a reason not to.
I don’t know how to forgive myself for that. Some part of me will always wonder what might have happened if I’d been brave enough to tell you.
The truth is, I was afraid. Afraid saying it would make everything real. Afraid I’d lose even the small place I had in your life. Afraid you’d look at me differently.
So I kept it to myself.
I loved you quietly. I missed you quietly. I hurt quietly. Eventually, I suppose I’ll have to heal quietly too.
There was never really a beginning, and somehow there will still be an ending.
If I ever seem completely fine, know that it took everything to get there. I didn’t want to stop loving you. I just got tired of being the only one who knew that I did.
Maybe that’s where this letter has to end, not because I have nothing left to say, but because I finally understand that no amount of words can make someone feel what you feel.
So this will be another letter I don’t send. Another confession that stays hidden. Another piece of my heart you’ll never know you had.
And I think that’s what will hurt the most:
knowing I could have loved you for a lifetime,
and you might never even know.

I’m fucking done.
This is too hard. I’m tired of feeling everything this intensely and having absolutely nowhere for it to go.
Sometimes I envy The Vampire Diaries — how they can just say, turn it off, and suddenly they don’t feel anything anymore. God, I wish it were that easy. I wish I could switch you off. Switch my heart off. Switch my fucking brain off.
I used to drink to numb it. Now, for some reason, it only makes everything louder. You become louder. The thoughts become louder. The ache becomes unbearable.
And I don’t know what to do with that anymore.
Because underneath the smiles, the small talk and the version of me everyone sees at work, I’m not okay. I’m pretty fucked in the head, if I’m honest. I spend so much of my time pretending I’m fine that sometimes I don’t even know what fine is supposed to feel like anymore.
And you have no idea.
Maybe that’s the worst part.
You get the smile.
You get the normal version of me.
You’ll never know how much it hurts to stand there in front of you and pretend you don’t matter this much.
I just want it to stop.
Not because I never cared.
Because I cared too fucking much.
And I don’t know how much longer I can keep carrying something you were never even asked to hold.

I don’t know what this is.
I don’t know if what I feel is completely one-sided, or if there’s something between us that neither of us is brave enough to name.
Sometimes you give me just enough to wonder.
The way you look at me sometimes. The things you remember. The little moments that seem to linger longer than they should. The way you can make me feel seen without ever actually saying anything that would give me an answer.
And then there are the times you give me nothing at all.
So I don’t know what to believe.
Sometimes I wonder if you’ve ever looked at me and felt something you weren’t supposed to. If you’ve ever caught yourself thinking about me when I wasn’t there. If you’ve ever replayed one of our conversations afterwards, wondering if there was something underneath the words.
I wonder if you notice the way I look at you.
If you can tell when I’m nervous around you.
If you’ve ever sensed that there are things I want to say but stop myself from saying.
I wonder if those moments between us mean anything to you, or if I’m the only one giving them meaning.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we actually said everything we keep avoiding?
Have you ever wanted to get closer to me, but stopped yourself for the same reasons I do?
Have you ever almost told me something, then decided it was safer to leave it unsaid?
And perhaps the question I’m most afraid of,
Do you ever think about me the way I think about you?
Because sometimes I swear there is something in the space between us.
And sometimes I think that’s just my heart desperately looking for evidence that I’m not alone in this.
Maybe my mind takes a smile and turns it into affection. A lingering glance into attraction. A thoughtful question into something more. Maybe I’ve built an entire possibility out of moments that were never meant to mean anything.
But then you do something that makes me question that again.
And I’m right back here.
Wondering.
Hoping.
Doubting myself.
There are so many things I want to ask you.
Do you feel something when we’re alone that you don’t feel when you’re with everyone else?
Have you ever wanted to reach for me and stopped yourself?
Have you ever noticed how hard I try to hide what I feel?
If I told you the truth, would it surprise you?
Would it make you uncomfortable?
Would you pull away?
Or would you finally tell me that you’ve been wondering the same things?
Those questions haunt me because I know there are only so many places they can lead.
One answer could make me feel like I’ve been holding my breath for nothing.
Another could change everything.
And I’m terrified of both.
Because vulnerability has never come easily to me. I don’t know how to stand in front of you and say, this is where you have the power to hurt me.
I don’t know how to admit that you matter to me this much without feeling like I’ve handed you something fragile and asked you not to drop it.
So instead, I hide.
I make jokes. I change the subject. I convince myself I’m reading too much into things. I tell myself that if you wanted me to know, you would tell me.
And maybe you tell yourself the same thing about me.
Maybe that’s why we’re both still here, caught somewhere between what we feel and what we’re willing to say.
I wish I knew what goes through your mind when you look at me.
I wish I knew whether there’s a version of this that exists in your imagination too.
Because sometimes I think you feel it.
And sometimes I think I’ve imagined the whole thing because wanting something badly enough can make almost anything look like hope.
I just wish I knew.
But I’m scared to ask.
Because once I do, there’s no going back to pretending I don’t care.
And maybe that’s what scares me most.
Not that you might not feel the same.
But that you might.
And then I’d have to stop hiding behind uncertainty and finally let you see just how much I’ve been trying not to feel.

I don’t know what this is.
I don’t know if what I feel is completely one-sided, or if there’s something between us that neither of us is brave enough to name.
Sometimes you give me just enough to wonder.
The way you look at me sometimes. The things you remember. The little moments that seem to linger longer than they should. The way you can make me feel seen without ever actually saying anything that would give me an answer.
And then there are the times you give me nothing at all.
So I don’t know what to believe.
Sometimes I wonder if you’ve ever looked at me and felt something you weren’t supposed to. If you’ve ever caught yourself thinking about me when I wasn’t there. If you’ve ever replayed one of our conversations afterwards, wondering if there was something underneath the words.
I wonder if you notice the way I look at you.
If you can tell when I’m nervous around you.
If you’ve ever sensed that there are things I want to say but stop myself from saying.
I wonder if those moments between us mean anything to you, or if I’m the only one giving them meaning.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we actually said everything we keep avoiding?
Have you ever wanted to get closer to me, but stopped yourself for the same reasons I do?
Have you ever almost told me something, then decided it was safer to leave it unsaid?
And perhaps the question I’m most afraid of,
Do you ever think about me the way I think about you?
Because sometimes I swear there is something in the space between us.
And sometimes I think that’s just my heart desperately looking for evidence that I’m not alone in this.
Maybe my mind takes a smile and turns it into affection. A lingering glance into attraction. A thoughtful question into something more. Maybe I’ve built an entire possibility out of moments that were never meant to mean anything.
But then you do something that makes me question that again.
And I’m right back here.
Wondering.
Hoping.
Doubting myself.
There are so many things I want to ask you.
Do you feel something when we’re alone that you don’t feel when you’re with everyone else?
Have you ever wanted to reach for me and stopped yourself?
Have you ever noticed how hard I try to hide what I feel?
If I told you the truth, would it surprise you?
Would it make you uncomfortable?
Would you pull away?
Or would you finally tell me that you’ve been wondering the same things?
Those questions haunt me because I know there are only so many places they can lead.
One answer could make me feel like I’ve been holding my breath for nothing.
Another could change everything.
And I’m terrified of both.
Because vulnerability has never come easily to me. I don’t know how to stand in front of you and say, this is where you have the power to hurt me.
I don’t know how to admit that you matter to me this much without feeling like I’ve handed you something fragile and asked you not to drop it.
So instead, I hide.
I make jokes. I change the subject. I convince myself I’m reading too much into things. I tell myself that if you wanted me to know, you would tell me.
And maybe you tell yourself the same thing about me.
Maybe that’s why we’re both still here, caught somewhere between what we feel and what we’re willing to say.
I wish I knew what goes through your mind when you look at me.
I wish I knew whether there’s a version of this that exists in your imagination too.
Because sometimes I think you feel it.
And sometimes I think I’ve imagined the whole thing because wanting something badly enough can make almost anything look like hope.
I just wish I knew.
But I’m scared to ask.
Because once I do, there’s no going back to pretending I don’t care.
And maybe that’s what scares me most.
Not that you might not feel the same.
But that you might.
And then I’d have to stop hiding behind uncertainty and finally let you see just how much I’ve been trying not to feel.

Lately, it feels like my world is slowly falling apart. There are days when everything feels heavier than I know how to carry, and I’m so tired of pretending I’m okay. I go through the motions, smile when I’m supposed to, and keep most of what I’m feeling hidden.
And then I see you.
For a little while, everything feels lighter. I can breathe. I smile without forcing it. Even the smallest moment with you can change the whole feeling of my day. You probably have no idea, but seeing you has become one of the few things that can still bring a little light into my life.
Maybe that’s why these feelings scare me so much.
Because you’ve become this tiny piece of happiness in a life that feels like it’s coming undone, and you don’t even know you’re holding it.
I notice how much I look forward to seeing you. How your absence feels more than it should. How sometimes I’ll be having the worst day, and just knowing I might see you makes it a little easier to get through.
I wish you knew how much your presence means to me.
But the cruelest part is knowing that you might be the brightest thing in my world, while I’m nothing more than a passing moment in yours.
So I keep it to myself.
I smile when I see you. I act normal. I pretend there isn’t a whole storm of things I want to say sitting behind every ordinary conversation.
And maybe that’s what hurts the most.
Because every day I choose silence, the words become harder to hold inside.
And lately, my silence has started to feel unbearable.
Because you’re the one thing that makes everything feel a little less broken, and I’m terrified that one day I’ll have to learn how to live without you being the light I secretly look for.

(I really don’t know what flair to use for these anymore)

Lately, it feels like my world is slowly falling apart. There are days when everything feels heavier than I know how to carry, and I’m so tired of pretending I’m okay. I go through the motions, smile when I’m supposed to, and keep most of what I’m feeling hidden.
And then I see you.
For a little while, everything feels lighter. I can breathe. I smile without forcing it. Even the smallest moment with you can change the whole feeling of my day. You probably have no idea, but seeing you has become one of the few things that can still bring a little light into my life.
Maybe that’s why these feelings scare me so much.
Because you’ve become this tiny piece of happiness in a life that feels like it’s coming undone, and you don’t even know you’re holding it.
I notice how much I look forward to seeing you. How your absence feels more than it should. How sometimes I’ll be having the worst day, and just knowing I might see you makes it a little easier to get through.
I wish you knew how much your presence means to me.
But the cruelest part is knowing that you might be the brightest thing in my world, while I’m nothing more than a passing moment in yours.
So I keep it to myself.
I smile when I see you. I act normal. I pretend there isn’t a whole storm of things I want to say sitting behind every ordinary conversation.
And maybe that’s what hurts the most.
Because every day I choose silence, the words become harder to hold inside.
And lately, my silence has started to feel unbearable.
Because you’re the one thing that makes everything feel a little less broken, and I’m terrified that one day I’ll have to learn how to live without you being the light I secretly look for.

(I really don’t know what flair to use for these anymore)

There’s a part of me that keeps wishing for something I already know I can’t have.
My heart doesn’t care about timing, circumstances, or all the reasons this could never work. It only knows that when I’m near you, something in me feels alive in a way I can’t explain.
But reality is cruel like that.
Because the truth is, I think I’ve fallen for you, and I don’t think you’ve fallen for me.
I don’t know when it happened. I just know that somewhere along the way, seeing you became the part of my day I looked forward to most. I started noticing the little things, holding onto moments and missing you when you weren’t there. Before I realised it, you had become someone I cared about far more than I ever intended to.
And maybe that’s the part that hurts the most.
You haven’t done anything wrong. You never promised me anything. You never asked me to feel this way.
I just wish my heart understood that.
Because I keep finding pieces of you in my thoughts, while knowing I probably never cross your mind in the same way.
So I keep this to myself. I smile, I act normal, I carry on as though you haven’t quietly become one of the most important people in my world.
And maybe one day I’ll stop hoping for something you were never offering.
But right now, I’m stuck between what my heart wants and what reality keeps telling me.
I love you in a way I can’t ask you to return.
And I think that might be the loneliest kind of love there is.

Hey…

I don’t know how to let you go when you keep giving me reasons to believe I shouldn’t.
That is the truth I’ve been trying so hard not to say.
Every time I decide that this has to end inside me, something happens that brings it all rushing back. A look. A conversation. A moment of kindness. Some small thing that probably means nothing to you, but means everything to me because I have spent so long trying to understand what you refuse to say.
And then I’m back where I started.
Hoping.
Wondering.
Waiting.
I don’t know what I am to you anymore. Maybe I am someone you care about. Maybe you are drawn to me in some way. Maybe there is something you feel but don’t know how to admit.
Or maybe I’ve simply been giving meaning to things because I desperately wanted them to mean something.
I think I could accept the truth if you would just give it to me.
That’s what hurts.
You never quite let me go, but you never really choose me either. You leave just enough uncertainty for me to keep believing there might be something here, and every time I try to walk away, I find myself wondering if perhaps this time will be different.
I’ve made excuses for you.
I’ve told myself you’re scared. That you’re unsure. That maybe you feel something too but don’t know what to do with it. I’ve taken every silence and turned it into an explanation that hurts less than the possibility that you simply don’t feel the same.
But I’m tired of doing that.
I’m tired of trying to read between your words.
I’m tired of wondering whether the things I notice are real or whether I’ve created an entire story from moments you never intended to be anything more.
And I’m tired of pretending that this doesn’t hurt.
Because I still want you in my life in a way that feels bigger than it should.
I still look for you.
I still notice when you’re distant.
I still wonder what you’re thinking when you look at me.
And, despite everything, some part of me still hopes you’ll finally say the thing I’ve been waiting to hear.
I don’t need a promise.
I don’t need certainty about the future.
I just need honesty.
If there is something here, tell me.
If there isn’t, tell me that too.
Because I can survive rejection.
What I can’t keep surviving is being given enough hope to stay and enough silence to doubt myself.
So I’m going to try to let you go.
Not because I stopped caring.
Not because what I felt wasn’t real to me.
But because I can’t keep standing in the doorway of a possibility, waiting for you to decide whether you want me there.
And maybe that’s the cruelest part.
Even now, while I’m telling myself to leave, some quiet part of me is still hoping you’ll stop me.
I’m still hoping you’ll finally be brave enough to give me an answer.
But I can’t wait forever for someone who won’t tell me whether I’m waiting for something real.

First time posting on this sub but I’ve been a lurker for awhile. Just finding some sort of comfort in similar experiences has really helped me through my Limerence.
I read a while ago something about the “ick” and how happy some people were when they experienced it, I honestly didn’t think it would really help break this cycle.
But I have to say I finally experienced it and I honestly feel like celebrating! It was like being doused in cold water, like a “hang on a second” wake up call and I couldn’t be happier. I admit there are still some lingering emotions there, but they are a lot more quieter, more subtle and so much more manageable.
I guess I just wanted to thank you all for being so open and honest about your experiences, it has helped me immensely even in my darkest times.
I also wanted to send out virtual hugs and some hope to you all, it will eventually pass x

Having a moment where we just talk and joke around, no stress, no tension, no awkwardness.
Just 2 people yapping about random stuff, I actually enjoyed it, it made time go faster. I also like that every now and then you throw in something personal about yourself, kinda makes me feel better that you’re comfortable enough with me to do that, or do you do that with everyone? I dunno, it doesn’t matter, it was nice anyways.
I guess I just wanted to say thank you, and if you ever need a listening ear, whether it’s for serious, personal or just a chat about randomness, I’m always here.

I don’t know what it is about you, I just can’t put my finger on it. You’re a quiet presence, we don’t talk or see each other very often, but I have noticed… I notice your side glances and the weird one sentences, and then the random friend request.
Is it just because? Are you curious? Or are you a lurker?
Either way, I don’t mind really, because all I know now is you’ve quietly piqued my curiosity.
You know what they say about curiosity and the cat right.
So this is either a good thing or a bad thing.
Either way let the games begin.

I don’t know what it is about you, I just can’t put my finger on it. You’re a quiet presence, we don’t talk or see each other very often, but I have noticed… I notice your side glances and the weird one sentences, and then the random friend request.
Is it just because? Are you curious? Or are you a lurker?
Either way, I don’t mind really, because all I know now is you’ve quietly piqued my curiosity.
You know what they say about curiosity and the cat right.
So this is either a good thing or a bad thing.
Either way let the games begin.

I’m not talking about the generic one, I’m talking about the real one, the one that only comes out when you are genuinely amused…
Good Lordie… it does things to me… It leaves me stunned, like a deer in headlights, I get the tingles and I want to grip my heart.
Most of all.. I want to walk up, grab you by the face and…. Headbutt you!!! (Jks)
It’s not fair, that your smile is so utterly attractive.

Think about me, when we don’t see each other, when you’re alone, do I consume your thoughts like you consume mine?
Wishful thinking, I guess…

Think about me, when we don’t see each other, when you’re alone, do I consume your thoughts like you consume mine?
Wishful thinking, I guess…

We seem to be doing some weird little dance, the funny thing is that neither of us know the steps. My question is, do we get serious and learn the moves? Do we continue to fumble, not knowing the start or the end? Or do we just wing it and enjoy the laughs while we stand on each other’s toes?
Either way it’s fun and I’m just curious..

We seem to be doing some weird little dance, the funny thing is that neither of us know the steps. My question is, do we get serious and learn the moves? Do we continue to fumble, not knowing the start or the end? Or do we just wing it and enjoy the laughs while we stand on each other’s toes?
Either way it’s fun and I’m just curious..