ADULT AND LOVE 520

20/05/2026-

 

I am back again.

Once more, life happened all at once, and somehow, I survived it—barely.

Lately, I have found myself in awe of how quickly a human being can change. Not over years, not even over months, but overnight. One day they are familiar, and the next they are someone entirely different. It is both fascinating and unsettling to witness.

I have also come to realize how fragile the plot of life truly is. We spend so much time believing tomorrow will resemble today, only to discover that a single moment, a single decision, or a single encounter can rewrite the entire story.

Along the way, I met many people. Some became friends, while others became lessons disguised as people. Both left their mark.

There was a time when I craved attention so desperately that I would go to unimaginable lengths for the smallest acknowledgment—a simple "hi" felt like validation, like proof that I mattered.

But somewhere between all the disappointments, the goodbyes, and the unexpected turns, something within me changed.

Now, I observe more than I speak. I stand quietly in the background and watch. I notice how people shift depending on who they are talking to. I notice how quickly expressions change, how intentions reveal themselves in fleeting moments, how differently the same person can behave from one conversation to the next.

It is strange, the things you begin to see when you stop chasing attention and start paying attention.

Looking back, I realize I have come a long way. Not because life became easier, but because I learned to see it more clearly. And perhaps that is growth—not becoming someone new, but finally noticing what was there all along.

And in the midst of all that, I met a boy.

A boy who was never meant for me to have.

We came from different worlds—different cultures, different religions, different ways of understanding life itself. On paper, we were a story that made little sense. A story that was never supposed to be written.

Yet somehow, I found myself drawn to him.

It started with his laughter. Then his kindness. Then the quiet wisdom hidden beneath his words. I admired the way he treated people, the way he carried himself, the way he could make difficult days feel a little lighter without even trying.

He was my colleague. We worked together, laughed together, and on some of my heaviest days, he became the person I turned to. When work became overwhelming and the endless dramas exhausted me, he listened. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. He listened with patience, with understanding, and with a gentleness that had become so rare in my life.

Perhaps that was where it all began.

He was so kind that, for a moment, I forgot who he was and who I was. I forgot the distance between us. I forgot the realities that stood quietly in the background, waiting to remind me that some people are meant to cross our paths, not stay in them.

But the heart has never been known for its obedience.

The heart wants what it wants.

What began as admiration lingered longer than it should have. The feelings settled in the corners of my days, growing roots where they were never invited to grow. And little by little, the heart became greedy. It wanted more than shared laughter.

More than brief conversations. More than stolen moments between meetings and deadlines.

It wanted something from someone it could never truly have.

And that is the cruel thing about falling for the impossible.

At first, you tell yourself you are asking for nothing. Then one day, you realize your heart has built an entire universe out of nothingness and is still hoping for more.