“Unloving Memories”
What if love was never meant to save us?
What if it only arrives
to show how deeply a heart can drown?
She was peaceful before him.
Not lonely —
just untouched.
Like still water under moonlight,
quiet in its own existence.
She liked her silence,
her little routines,
the safety of belonging only to herself.
Then he arrived like light on water.
Warm. Gentle.
The kind of presence that makes you believe
life could become softer than survival.
He spoke like a shore to someone drifting.
And she, innocent enough to trust kindness,
followed.
She was a leaf once —
floating freely wherever the wind wished to carry her.
Then a branch appeared beside her,
whispering,
hold onto me, I know the way to land.
So she did.
But some things do not guide you to safety.
Some things only need company while sinking.
And when the branch drowned,
it pulled the leaf down with it.
That is how some people love —
not from fullness,
but from fear.
An insecure heart does not destroy loudly.
It destroys through confusion.
Through warmth one day
and distance the next.
By making you question your worth
until you no longer recognize the person you were before them.
He entered her life softly,
but slowly became a storm inside it.
The girl who once loved solitude
began depending on his voice to feel calm.
The girl who carried her pain quietly
was pushed into becoming emotional, reactive, wounded —
not because she was weak,
but because pain forced out of someone
eventually spills into the open.
And still, he called her “too much,”
as if he hadn’t created the ache himself.
She trusted him more than herself.
That was the saddest part.
She gave him the most beautiful pieces of her life —
her time,
her softness,
her care hidden in small unnoticed things.
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She cooked for him.
Protected him.
Saved money instead of spending it on herself
because somewhere in her heart
she had already started building a future around his existence.
While she was learning love like devotion,
he was loving her like a temporary feeling.
And one day,
without warning,
he became bored.
As if hearts were songs people skip halfway through.
As if love expires once it becomes familiar.
Maybe that is why she believes
some men only love what they cannot reach.
The chase excites them more than the staying.
They fall in love with distance, mystery, uncertainty —
but once a woman becomes safe enough to hold them completely,
they stop seeing her magic.
Love becomes a competition to win,
not a soul to protect.
So he left.
Not with honesty.
Not with clarity.
Just silence.
The kind of silence that leaves someone stranded
in the middle of an ocean they entered
only because another hand promised
they would swim together.
And there she was —
drowning beside memories,
while he swam toward someone easier,
someone who required less depth from him.
But the truth is —
she was never hard to love.
She was simply too real
for someone who only loved temporary things.
Now she no longer begs life for romance.
No dramatic promises.
No forever.
All she wants back
is the peace she had before someone arrived pretending to be light
while carrying darkness inside him.
Because the cruelest thing was never that he left.
It was that he disturbed a soul
that had once learned how to bloom alone.
