The Enchanted Unrequited

Some loves don’t make noise. They don’t knock on your door with flowers or promises. They just… exist quietly—like the hum of the ceiling fan at night, or the steady beat of a heart you never really notice until it’s gone. I sometimes think… if I were a fish, things would be easier for you, maybe then you would have loved me too a bit. Not the kind that swims away into an endless ocean, but the kind that stays in one small glass bowl, in a corner of your room, living quietly in your space without asking for more than you can give. Maybe I’d be a brigh blue with a golden shimmer, the kind of color that feels like peace after a storm. Maybe you’d have even given me a name—something soft and meaningful with love, like June, a name you’d say quietly when you were near, as if it belonged to a secret only we shared. I wouldn’t talk. I wouldn’t argue. I wouldn’t take up too much room in your life— just enough to see you, enough to feel close. Maybe then you’d think I was...

It’s not the night that feels too long—it’s the silence that feels too loud. They don’t tell you this when you’re young— that there comes a time in life when sleeping alone no longer feels like freedom, but like an unfinished sentence. This solitude is intoxicating. You sprawl across the bed, claim every inch of the blanket, and feel proud of not needing anyone. The silence feels peaceful, the dark feels calm, and you convince yourself you are enough for your own company. But time changes the way nights feel. Somewhere along the way, the bed begins to look too big for just one body. You notice the other pillow lying untouched— a silent witness to the conversations that never happened, to the laughter that didn’t spill into the night, to the “goodnight” that was never whispered in the dark. It whispers memories into your ear, presses its cold weight against your chest, and reminds you of every conversation you wish you could have at 2 a.m. At first, you think you m...

Love is not just a feeling—it is a force, a sacred fire that holds within it a beauty so profound and a magic so gentle, that no other power in existence can compare. It doesn’t seek to dominate, to control, or to overpower. It doesn’t shout, demand, or force its way into hearts. Love arrives softly. It doesn’t need permission to bloom, yet it never trespasses. It never tries to win, yet it always triumphs. Even in the face of the harshest aggression, love stands unshaken. All anger, ego, and control melt in its presence—dissolving quietly, almost reverently. Love doesn't fight. It transforms. It doesn’t break down walls; it makes them irrelevant. Where there was once poison, love brings purity. Where there was death—in spirit, in hope, in joy—love breathes new life. And where there was numbness, love stirs a dance—ecstatic, sacred, free. Life without love is not truly life. It is a shell, a routine, a muted existence. You may laugh, eat, succeed—but without love, there...