It’s been nearly four years.
I gave my heart away — completely,
with faith, with fire.
But the love I gave wasn’t returned the same.
It’s 3 in the morning again.
My body aches,
but it’s the weight inside my chest that hurts more.
It’s a quiet ache —
the kind that doesn’t scream,
but stays.
I poured time, energy, and tenderness
into a connection that couldn’t hold me.
I held onto words
that were light but never lasting.
I waited. I trusted.
And somewhere in the process,
I let go of parts of me.
They said they cared.
But love isn’t meant to be confusing.
It doesn’t vanish at the first storm.
Real love doesn’t leave you
wondering if you were ever enough.
So I remained alone —
not because I lost belief in love,
but because I once gave too much
to someone who didn’t value its depth.
No one sees the quiet destruction.
The tears cried into pillows.
The strength it takes to show up
when your soul feels like it’s unraveling.
Time didn’t erase the pain.
It reshaped it.
It taught me how to carry sorrow
without letting it break me again.
And when everything outside turned cold —
when voices fell silent
and doors stayed shut
that’s when I was found.
By Him. Mahadev.
Not in rituals,
but in the stillness of my solitude.
In the tears I stopped hiding.
In the strength I didn’t know I had.
He didn’t need me to be fixed.
Just real.
Just present in my truth.
I lost a person —
but I found my center.
And in that stillness,
He met me.
Pain didn’t destroy me.
It made space for my becoming.
And that girl with broken dreams?
She didn’t just survive.
She rose —
anchored in something greater.
