u/Saturn8295

When I first looked into those ocean blue eyes, my soul immediately knew yours. The feeling was strange and my mind couldnt catch up. That is, until now.

Being apart has made me realize my soul was right. We do know each other. We have known each other in many life times before this one. I know this had to happen so we could both grow. We were two broken people trying to make a whole. To stubborn to both admit we needed work.

I miss you so much. Some days are easier than others. But then there are days like today, days where it feels like the earth is spinning so slowly it might stop.

I need you. Not in the way it used to be. But I need you in the way a building needs nuts and bolts to stand tall. The way the ocean needs the Moon. The way the birds need to sing and the desert needs rain.

I know you dont wish to hear from me. So I will not reach out. Im also done chasing you. But just know...

I love you, and I miss you.

It's been fifteen long years since you last drew breath.

Fifteen years since I last stood beneath the shelter of your love.

The years have turned your voice into a distant constellation— still there, but just beyond my reach. Your smile has become moonlight reflected on water, beautiful, familiar, yet impossible to hold.

I miss you so fiercely that some days it feels as though my heart is stitched together with fragile moonlight, threatening to unravel with every beat.

Yet pieces of you still wander this world through me.

Your courage. Your strength. Your endless kindness.

They bloom inside me like ancient wildflowers, planted by hands I can no longer hold.

I remember so little.

Mostly, I remember watching illness slowly steal you away, as though a cruel winter had settled into your bones. But between those shadows were tiny sparks of light— moments of laughter, gentle smiles, little pockets of joy that still glow like fireflies in my memory.

Then one morning... you simply didn't wake.

For years, I was angry. Angry that death stole you. Angry that I had to grow up without you. Angry that love wasn't enough to keep you here.

It took me years to forgive you for dying.

How strange that sounds. Who grows angry with someone for leaving when they never chose to?

I did.

And I am sorry.

I hope somewhere among the stars, you understood that my anger was only another shape grief had chosen to wear. I hope you've forgiven me.

I will always be your little princess.

But I hope when you look beyond the veil, you no longer see only the little girl you left behind. I hope you see the Queen— No... the Goddess I am slowly becoming.

You taught me that kindness is never weakness. That love is worth giving, even when it hurts. That surrender is not the same as giving up.

Those lessons became the lanterns that guided me through my darkest nights.

Now, I find you everywhere.

In sunsets that set the sky ablaze. In the first blush of dawn as the world awakens. In the Moon, with all Her ancient wisdom and silver light.

She whispers what my heart has always known.

You were never truly gone.

You live in every act of compassion. Every impossible step forward. Every dream I refuse to abandon.

You live within me.

And on the days this world feels unbearably heavy, I remember that I carry a piece of your light.

Though I can no longer hold your hand, I carry your spirit with me through every season of my life. The love between us did not end when your heart stopped beating—it simply learned how to speak through the stars.

I hope, wherever your soul now dances among the stars, you look upon me with pride.

Because I am still becoming.

And everything beautiful I become will always carry a little bit of you.

When will I finally be enough?

When will all the pieces of myself that I have offered—every sacrifice, every silent swallow of pain, every desperate attempt to do everything "right"—be enough for you?

I follow the path you laid before me. I contribute in every way I can, though my pockets carry nothing but hope. Yet when I ask for the smallest ember of kindness, I am met with winter.

"Stop complaining."

"I don't owe you anything."

The words fall like curses, wrapping themselves around my heart until it forgets what warmth feels like.

I know I wandered onto this path. I know I chose roads that led me here. But now that I am clawing my way toward something brighter—toward healing, toward becoming someone I can be proud of—when will you finally see me?

I don't crave crowns.

I don't long for applause.

I don't even seek admiration.

I only ache for the kind of ordinary kindness you scatter so effortlessly into the hands of strangers.

Instead, I am told I should stay quiet.

Be grateful.

Know my place.

As though the absence of rent means the absence of humanity.

Night after night, I lie awake while tears carve rivers across my face until there are none left to give. Somewhere inside me, a little girl still waits beneath the ruins, clutching the same questions she has whispered for years.

"When will they treat me like I matter?"

"When will I ever be enough for my mommy?"

She is tired.

She carries cracks no child should have to carry. She folds herself smaller and smaller, hoping one day someone will notice she is disappearing.

So tell me...

When is it my turn to speak without being silenced?

When is it my turn to exist without apologizing for taking up space?

When is it my turn to be wholly, unapologetically myself?

At what point does basic human decency stop feeling like a wish whispered into an empty forest?

Because lately...

it feels as though the only way my voice will ever echo loud enough to be heard...

is after the forest has already claimed me.

It is at the point in my healing journey that I need to leave this home.

It is affecting me, which in turn is affecting my 2 year old.

I have no car, no license (which they claim they will help me with but when i ask to practice its always "were busy" (yeah playing World of Warcraft)), i have no money, and I am a single parent.

The tipping point (which may sound childish on my part) is that I was just bitched at for doing laundry "on the wrong day" my bad...i need clean clothes. "I'll keep your boundaries in mind moving forward" is what i said. Then I asked "why do I have to respect your boundaries but you wont respect mine?" I got hit with the classic "its my fucking house."

"They are here to help" but when I ask for help i get nonchalant, vague responses or just "hmmm".

I have no friends or family in the area and if I left now, I would be homeless.

I am trying my very best to better my life and it feels no matter what steps I take its always met with me feeling guilty afterwards.

It is time to leave, but i do not know how or where to start.

I realize that my actions up until this point have made me stuck, and I am ready to be free and have a non toxic environment for my son. Any advice is greatly appreciated. 💜

Your curls are spun from little tongues of flame, wild and warm, kissed copper by the setting sun. Your great blue eyes are tiny oceans, carrying the quiet secrets of the sky. And your laughter...

Oh, your laughter.

It is a melody the wind borrowed from the stars, forever echoing through the chambers of my heart.

When you wandered into my life nearly three years ago, I could never have imagined you would become the little lantern that led me back to a world I thought had vanished forever—a world I had buried beneath ash after weathering storms of fire and hail.

Before you, everything felt dim, as though the magic had packed its bags and slipped quietly from this realm.

Then you arrived.

And the enchantment returned.

You coaxed the embers within me back to life until they danced once more, not with destruction, but with warmth. You reminded me that wonder was never truly gone—it had simply been waiting for you to awaken it.

I've always searched for the goodness hidden inside people, even when the world insisted I stop looking. Some would call that naïve.

Perhaps.

But you make kindness feel like the most natural magic ever woven. Around you, darkness forgets its name, and I have to search for shadows because your light insists on finding every corner first.

You have rewritten parts of my soul I never knew could be rewritten.

I have become gentler.

More patient.

More willing to offer grace where I once held tight to hurt.

When I look into those endless blue eyes, I don't just see the future.

I see a kingdom still being built.

A place where hope blooms like wildflowers, where hearts remain soft, where wonder is not something children outgrow.

There are days when the weight of the world whispers that I should surrender.

Then I hear your laughter.

And every weary part of me remembers.

"This little boy..."

"...will remind the world that magic never disappeared."

"...will teach people that miracles often arrive with scraped knees, tangled curls, and eyes full of oceans."

"...will be the reason fires become hearths instead of destruction, and storms become stories instead of endings."

"...will scatter so much light across the earth that rainbows will no longer need rain to appear."

You have transformed me more in these few short years than I ever believed possible.

I know I will make mistakes. I will stumble. I will never be a perfect mother.

But I promise you this:

You will never have to wonder if you are loved.

You will never have to earn your worth.

You will always be seen—not for who the world asks you to become, but for the extraordinary soul you already are.

One day, the little boy with fire woven into his curls and oceans cradled in his eyes will grow into a man.

And when he does, I believe he will leave trails of stardust wherever he goes...

...until this weary, colorless world remembers how to believe in magic again.

Fire —

Many believe it exists only to consume,

but I see a wild heart dancing in golden tongues,

a fierce spirit that glows with the pulse of life itself.

Earth —

She, too, knows how to crumble kingdoms,

yet from every shattered stone she coaxes emerald dreams,

birthing new life the moment the old has finished its song.

Water —

Capable of swallowing worlds without a sound,

yet she is the most enchanting magic to ever wander

through the veins of the Universe,

carving beauty wherever her soul chooses to flow.

Air —

The unseen enchantress.

She offers a breath, steals another,

whispering that every beginning and every ending

rides upon the same invisible wings.

Fire —

Many believe it exists only to consume,

but I see a wild heart dancing in golden tongues,

a fierce spirit that glows with the pulse of life itself.

Earth —

She, too, knows how to crumble kingdoms,

yet from every shattered stone she coaxes emerald dreams,

birthing new life the moment the old has finished its song.

Water —

Capable of swallowing worlds without a sound,

yet she is the most enchanting magic to ever wander

through the veins of the Universe,

carving beauty wherever her soul chooses to flow.

Air —

The unseen enchantress.

She offers a breath, steals another,

whispering that every beginning and every ending

rides upon the same invisible wings.

When people say I look like you, something ancient inside me catches fire.

Not because I see myself in you, but because I don't.

I am not carved from the same stone.

My heart learned gentleness where yours chose sharp edges.

My light was never borrowed from extinguishing someone else's.

You built your throne from comparison,

from measuring your worth against the people who loved you,

and calling yourself superior when they stood smaller in your shadow.

Yet you look at me and declare that I am the problem.

So I offer you a question instead:

If there were no family left to stand above,

no one left to diminish,

no one left to blame—

would you still know how to be happy?

When people say we look alike, my soul burns hotter than dragonfire.

Because resemblance is a trick of flesh,

and we share little beyond that.

I have spent years becoming everything you are not.

And may every star in heaven bear witness:

I pray I never become anything like you.

I noticed the way you used to look at me.

Even when you thought my eyes were turned elsewhere, I was watching.

There was a wildfire behind those ocean-blue eyes,

a quiet sort of magic that made me forget the passing of time.

I could lose myself in them for hours,

drifting like a leaf upon the tide.

Your voice was as steady as a warm summer breeze,

the kind that rustles through the trees and whispers,

"Everything will be alright."

Your arms felt like mountains—

strong, unshakable,

a place I thought I could always call home.

But somewhere along the winding path,

you stopped seeing me.

At first, it was hardly noticeable.

A glance that lingered somewhere else.

A smile that arrived less often.

Stories left untold.

Silences that grew longer than they used to be.

I told myself I was imagining it.

That fires flicker.

That seasons change.

That love simply settles into something quieter.

But then I began to notice the empty spaces where I used to be.

The pieces of you that no longer found their way to me.

The laughter that no longer belonged to us.

The warmth that once felt endless, slowly fading with each passing day.

And then I noticed her.

I noticed the way you looked at her.

The way you used to look at me.

As though she hung the moon.

As though the stars themselves had gathered in her hands.

As though she had stumbled into a secret garden and returned carrying all the wonder in the world.

And all I can wonder now is:

What did she give you

that I had not already placed in your hands?

I built you a cottage in the center of my soul, lit every window with love, and filled its rooms with the family we created together.

I handed you every spark I possessed,

trusting you to help me keep the fire alive.

Instead, those sparks were scattered to the wind,

cast aside like they were nothing at all.

And little by little,

the blaze went out.

This is gonna be weird so bear with me..

I asked my spirit guides to show me "what im ready for, what I need" and told them Im finally ready.

In my dream, I do not remember the man's face, heres the weird part, but we were in a bathroom an he was helping me shave my underarms. The atmosphere was calm, and it was so gentlbit almost felt like nothing

Thats it, thats the dream 😭 Its sooo weird and I DO NOT understand it 😭

*I* believe it means im finally ready to be my loud, proud self and not settle for less than what that man in my dream did. (Not saying I need or want a man at this time. A man just so happened to be in my dream) But I really wanna hear other peoples takes on it.

There was a time when I could not imagine a world that did not have you woven through it.

I thought our paths would stretch endlessly side by side, winding through seasons and storms until our hair turned silver. I imagined we'd grow old together, collecting stories like treasures, and when our time was done, we'd linger as mischievous ghosts, haunting old hallways and making strangers wonder if magic was real.

But somewhere along the way, our roads split.

At first, I mourned that fork in the path. Now, I see it was necessary.

When my spark began to glow brighter, something in you recoiled from the light. I wanted us to shine together, two stars illuminating the same sky. Instead, you tried to fold my light into something smaller. Quieter. Easier to ignore. You chipped away at my shine until I barely recognized the dim silhouette staring back at me.

And yet, the path that led me away from you led me back to myself.

Now I blaze brighter than I ever did before we met. I shine exactly as I was meant to—wild and unapologetic, loud in my joy, steadfast in my truth, and unafraid to take up space in the sky.

For that lesson, I owe you thanks.

I will always carry love for you in the deepest chambers of my heart, where old memories sleep beneath layers of stardust. But love and forgiveness are not the same thing.

I can cherish what was, honor what it taught me, and still refuse to excuse the hands that tried to extinguish my flame.

So I release you with love, but I keep my sparkle.

This time, no one gets to take it away.

The star once shone so brightly that others mistook its light for magic.

But over time, it was squeezed a little too tightly. Piece by piece, it was taught to shrink itself.

"Stars don't act like that."

"Stars don't look like that."

"Stars don't talk like that."

So the little star dimmed its light.

It softened its glow. It tucked away the parts of itself that seemed too bright, too loud, too different. It became smaller and smaller until the star that once illuminated the sky could barely light the cave it hid within.

"What's wrong with me?" the star whispered into the darkness.

"Nothing, little one."

The voice was gentle, like moonlight on still water.

The star looked around. "Who are you?"

"That is not of importance. What matters is that you've spent so long trying to become what everyone else wanted that you've forgotten what you are."

The little star fell silent.

Then, for the first time in a very long time, it stood.

It brushed the dust from its surface.

It lifted its head.

And somewhere beneath the cracks, beneath the hurt, beneath the years of making itself smaller, it found a spark.

A tiny one.

But stars are not made from darkness.

They are made from fire.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Beautifully.

The spark became a glow.

The glow became a shimmer.

And the shimmer became a blaze.

The little star smiled as its light stretched farther than it ever had before.

Because it finally understood:

It had never lost its sparkle.

It had only forgotten that it was born to shine. ✨🌙⭐

We mirrored each other—

two souls with a memory

older than our names,

recognizing something ancient

in the way we spoke,

the way we stayed.

We thought it meant forever.

We thought it meant unbreakable.

When one loved,

the other loved harder.

When one listened,

the other leaned in closer—

like devotion was a competition

neither of us wanted to lose.

But love echoed everything.

When one burned,

the other became wildfire.

When one pulled away,

the other built walls so high

even hope couldn’t climb them.

Words were thrown—

sharp, careless, cutting—

but it was the silence

that carved the deepest wounds.

Silence that rang louder than anger,

distance that stretched so far

it forgot the shape of return.

Still—

she crawled back.

Tear-stained cheeks,

lungs aching for air that wouldn’t come,

bones heavy with the weight of trying.

Her arms, her legs—

raw from dragging herself

out of places no one should survive,

out of darkness that whispered

stay.

The kind of darkness

that doesn’t disappear—

only waits,

patient and quiet,

for its chance to rise again.

And still—

she fought it.

Again.

And again.

Until one day,

half-broken, half-breathing,

she looked toward the light—

expecting him.

Expecting the mirror.

The other half.

The answer she had chased

through fire and silence.

But it wasn’t him.

It was her.

Her own soul—

standing there,

soft and steady,

wearing a smile

she barely remembered how to hold.

Warm.

Certain.

Open.

As if to say,

I’ve been here the whole time.

I never left you.

Welcome home.

Home.

Not a place.

Not a person.

But something quiet

and constant

and finally found—

within

My dreams are full of you. Every night, as the world slips into silence, you wander through moonlit forests and starlit fields to find me. Sometimes you arrive wrapped in silver mist, sometimes carried on the wings of a forgotten song, but you always feel just close enough to touch before the dawn steals you away.

​

I miss you more than words can weave. I miss you the way the sea misses the moon when the tide is low, the way wildflowers long for spring after a bitter winter. Pieces of you linger everywhere—in the hush between heartbeats, in the glow of twilight, and in the little bits of magic that remind me of what once was.

​

If wishes were lanterns, I would send a thousand into the night sky in hopes that one might guide you back to me. Until then, I will keep meeting you where the stars and dreams entwine, gathering the fragments of you that drift through my sleep like enchanted stardust. For now, that is where I find you, and where I love you still.

You say I broke us.

Maybe, in some ways, we both played a part in the ending of our story. Relationships are complicated, and rarely are they defined by a single moment or a single person.

What I know now is that our time together changed me.

It taught me to ask deeper questions, to reflect more honestly, and to look at life with greater understanding. Some lessons came gently, and some came through pain, but each of them helped shape the person I am becoming.

The longer I move forward, the more I reconnect with myself. Piece by piece, I am rediscovering my voice, my strength, and the parts of me that may have gotten lost along the way.

I don't carry anger about what was. I carry gratitude for what I learned and acceptance for what could not last.

And through it all, there is one thing I will always be thankful for.

There is a little boy who carries pieces of both of us. He is the brightest part of our story and the greatest gift to come from it.

He will grow up knowing he is loved. He will grow up knowing that his thoughts matter, that his voice matters, and that he is free to become exactly who he is meant to be. He will know that home is a place where questions are welcomed, where kindness is valued, and where love is given freely.

Our story may not have unfolded the way either of us imagined, but it gave me lessons, memories, and a child I will cherish for the rest of my life.

For that, I choose to move forward with peace.

The Moon had spent centuries chasing the Sun.

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Not across the sky—that was merely what mortal eyes believed.

​

The true chase happened beneath the fabric of existence itself, where gravity became longing and starlight became language.

​

The Sun loved loudly.

​

Its affection spilled across galaxies in golden waves, warming worlds that would never know its name. It burned with certainty, with devotion so fierce it could create life from nothing but dust and hope.

​

The Moon loved differently.

​

The Moon loved in silence.

​

It watched.

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Waited.

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Remembered.

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It carried every whispered prayer, every tear shed beneath midnight skies, every promise lovers made while believing nobody else could hear.

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And through it all, it watched the Sun.

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The distance between them was unbearable.

​

Necessary.

​

Beautiful.

​

Cruel.

​

For what is longing if not love stretched across impossible miles?

​

One evening, when the universe was young and the stars were still learning how to shine, the Moon asked the cosmos a question.

​

"Why was I created to adore what I cannot touch?"

​

The universe laughed softly.

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The sound became meteor showers.

​

"You believe love is measured by possession," it answered. "But the strongest forces in existence never touch."

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The Moon considered this.

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Gravity never touched.

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Time never touched.

​

Destiny never touched.

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Yet entire worlds bent beneath their influence.

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And still the Moon yearned.

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Night after night it adorned itself in silver, hoping the Sun might notice. It wore crowns of constellations and dresses woven from nebulae. Comets braided themselves through its hair. Entire galaxies became jewelry upon its skin.

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The stars watched this ritual with quiet affection.

​

"You are beautiful," they told the Moon.

​

But beauty was never the thing the Moon wanted.

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It wanted to be seen.

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Truly seen.

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Then came an eclipse.

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A sacred moment.

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A rare alignment written into existence before the first atom ever learned how to dance.

​

For one breathtaking instant, the Moon moved directly between Earth and Sun.

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And there, suspended in perfect cosmic balance, the Moon finally felt it.

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Not touch.

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Something deeper.

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Recognition.

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The Sun looked upon the Moon with all the warmth it had carried since the beginning of time.

​

"I have always seen you," the Sun whispered.

​

The Moon trembled.

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Every crater became a heartbeat.

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Every shadow became a shiver.

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"You have?"

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"Every night."

​

The stars fell silent around them.

​

"I watch the oceans rise for you," the Sun continued. "I watch wolves sing your name. I watch lovers search for pieces of you in one another's eyes."

​

The Moon's silver glow deepened.

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Then the Sun spoke the truth it had hidden for billions of years.

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"You think you orbit alone. You think your longing belongs only to you."

​

A thousand galaxies held their breath.

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"But every dawn I leave pieces of myself behind so your night can shine."

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And suddenly the Moon understood.

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Its light had never been its own.

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It was the Sun's gift.

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A love letter traveling across impossible distances.

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A devotion so patient it expected nothing in return.

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The universe sighed.

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Stars were born.

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And somewhere between darkness and daylight, between desire and destiny, between endings and beginnings, the Moon finally stopped mourning the distance.

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Because some loves are not meant to possess.

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Some loves are meant to illuminate.

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And for the rest of eternity, the Moon carried the Sun's light across the heavens, while the Sun spent every morning searching the horizon for the last silver trace of the one it adored.

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Neither belonged to the other.

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Yet together, they painted the entire universe with longing.