It feels cold, lonely, and empty.
My mind keeps drifting off — there’s no focus, only apathy.
I don’t just want to be loved…
I want to love, honestly and fully.
I want to believe that love will find its way back into my life, that it hasn’t left me forever.
I’m still searching for meaning in all of this, and somehow, for me, meaning is born out of love, out of connection, out of two people choosing each other.
And I want to see that reflected in others too:
in the way people write in their diaries,
how they talk about their love,
how they admire the person beside them,
how they find purpose in one another,
how they try, believe, and keep supporting each other
Btw, today I wrote to two friends and told them I wasn’t feeling well, that I was having trouble breathing.
The first one brought me medicine without even asking whether I had anything at home, he knew my situation and just came.
The second one immediately said:
“If you need anything, text me. I’m in the city until Monday, I can bring you any groceries or medicine.”
And then I realized something.
The person I loved never offered to bring me medicine.
He would always say:
“There’s delivery from pharmacies and stores — you can order whatever you need.”
And somehow… that difference hurts.
Because sometimes care is not about whether something can be delivered, it’s about someone choosing to show up.
On the photo: a special nasal spray and an essential oil stick. I already took some fever powder earlier.