Okay, let me tell you guys a little bit about what’s been going on in my life lately.

I’ve been talking to this guy for a couple of months now, like, for a long time, and I really, really like him. He likes me just as much, and recently, we started having conversations about kids and our future together.

I’ve always wanted a family, but honestly, talking about kids with him made those feelings so much stronger. Hearing him talk about wanting to take care of our kids, take care of me, marry me, and have a family with me had me really in my feelings. It made me start imagining what that life could actually look like.

Then recently, I started feeling different. I’ve been dealing with nausea, dizziness, cramping, sore boobs every once in a while, really bad motion sickness, sleeping way more than usual, and just feeling extra tired and lazy. On top of all of that, I’ve been extremely bloated. Like, REALLY bloated. My stomach gets so round that I look pregnant.

So eventually I was like, “Okay, let me take a test just in case.”

I’m also on the Mirena IUD, so I already knew pregnancy was unlikely. Still, I wanted to know for sure. When I told him I was taking the test, he was actually really excited to see the result.

And then… negative.

I’m not even going to lie, seeing that negative test hurt my heart so much. I cried a lot. But what made me feel better was how he reacted. He comforted me, stayed there for me, bought me food, and just made sure I was okay. He didn’t make me feel silly for being emotional about it or make me feel like I was dealing with it alone. He was genuinely so sweet and caring toward me, and honestly, he’s such a sweetheart. ❤️

I know what you’re probably thinking: “Girl, you’re on birth control. What did you expect?” 😭 And honestly, I know. I know pregnancy with an IUD is rare. But I guess a little part of me thought I would somehow be that one person, the one out of a thousand who ends up pregnant anyway.

Even though the test was negative, I’m not completely ready to put the question to rest yet. I still need to see my doctor, possibly get bloodwork done, and take another pregnancy test. I’ve been told to test again in about a week or two, preferably in the morning, so that’s what I’m going to do.

My symptoms are still happening, and some of them feel like they’re getting a little stronger, so I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

So for now, I genuinely don’t know what the final answer is. Maybe I’m not pregnant and my body is just going through something else. Maybe the test was taken too early. Or maybe there’s another explanation entirely.

Either way, I’ll definitely update you guys when I know more. ❤️

Before anybody twists my words, let me make something clear. I want kids one day. I want a family. I’ve said that multiple times, and I’m excited for that part of my future. But there’s a huge difference between wanting children someday and acting like having a baby as a teenager is just another life milestone.

One of my best friends might be pregnant, and I don’t agree with it. She keeps saying, “Life happens,” and if she is pregnant, she still doesn’t know if she’s going to keep the baby. At the same time, she has a problem with her 18 year old cousin who’s pregnant with her second child. She says her cousin is too young, can’t keep a job, isn’t financially stable, and is always asking people for money.

So I asked her, “How is that any different from your situation?”

If you’re pregnant, you don’t have a job either. You don’t have a car. You ask people for money too. You can’t call someone else irresponsible while you’re in almost the exact same position. That’s hypocrisy.

Then she tried to make her situation sound better by saying, “Well, if I keep the baby, I’ll be 19 by the time it’s born.”

Okay… and?

That’s not the point.

Being 19 instead of 18 doesn’t magically make someone financially stable, emotionally prepared, or ready to raise a child. That mindset completely misses the bigger issue.

What also bothers me is seeing people have babies with men they barely know. My best friend barely knows the guy she’s potentially having a baby with. She says she loves him, but from what I’ve seen, he’s intentionally trying to get her pregnant. That isn’t romantic to me. That’s scary.

Me and the guy I’m with actually had a conversation about kids. We both want children one day, but we also agreed that now isn’t the right time. We talked about our future, what we want our lives to look like, and how we want to build a stable foundation first.

That’s what makes sense to me.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with talking about your future. Talk about marriage. Talk about kids. Talk about your goals. Talk about the life you want to build together. Those conversations are healthy because they’re about planning instead of rushing.

What I don’t understand is why getting pregnant so young has become something people almost expect.

I’m tired of constantly being surrounded by pregnant teenagers. I’m tired of seeing people who just turned 18 already having babies. I’m tired of people acting like having a child is going to save a relationship or make a man stay.

Why are you getting pregnant because you’re scared he’ll leave?

Why are you getting pregnant because you love him so much that you feel like you have to give him a baby?

Why are you risking the rest of your future for someone who hasn’t even proven they’ll be there?

The reality is that a baby doesn’t fix a relationship. It doesn’t create loyalty. It doesn’t guarantee commitment. If anything, it puts even more pressure on an already unstable situation.

I know there are amazing young parents who step up and do everything they can for their children. This isn’t about saying they’re bad people or that they can’t be great parents. It’s about questioning why we’ve become so comfortable acting like teen pregnancy is normal or even desirable.

It shouldn’t be.

Children deserve stability. They deserve parents who are emotionally ready, financially prepared, and committed to raising them together or at least able to provide a healthy environment.

I just wish more people would stop romanticizing teen pregnancy and start thinking about everything that comes after the baby shower, the cute pictures, and the pregnancy announcements.

Because raising a child is a lifelong responsibility, not just a moment.

I just told you guys in my discussion chat about seeing my ex at a birthday party, and honestly, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Not because I miss him. I don’t. I don’t miss him, and I don’t miss the connection we had. I think what’s been on my mind is how different the experience was from what I imagined it would be.

Back in December, I wrote a whole note to myself about what I would do if I ever saw him again. I planned out the questions I would ask, the things I wanted answers to, and the closure I thought I needed.

Then I actually saw him.

And all I could think was, I don’t want to speak to you.

I didn’t want the closure I thought I needed when I was 14. I’m 18 now. You’re about to be 20. You have a girlfriend. You’re happy. You live with her. Yet somehow, you’re still trying to find ways to reach out to me.

Why?

Why won’t you just leave me alone?

I know you won’t admit it, but I feel like there’s something about me you still think about. Maybe you miss something we had, or maybe you think I’d be willing to rekindle something between us.

But I won’t.

You slowly try to reach me through my family, but you won’t directly reach out to me. It’s strange.

What’s even funnier is that I always thought seeing him again would make me cry. I thought I’d feel heartbroken or jealous seeing him with someone else.

Instead, I felt nothing.

I actually laughed.

I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to show up to my best friend’s daughter’s birthday party. She didn’t even invite him. My cousin invited him knowing he was my ex, probably just to be petty. Then his girlfriend came too.

The whole situation felt unnecessary.

He kept looking at me from across the table, almost making sure I noticed him. It was obvious enough that I caught it, but I refused to give him the reaction he seemed to be looking for.

Afterward, I wanted to cry.

But I wasn’t crying because I was hurt or angry.

I was crying because I was proud of myself.

I’m so glad I didn’t react the way I thought I would. I thought I’d be angry. I thought I’d be petty. I thought I’d say something.

Instead, I simply acted like they weren’t there.

And that showed me just how much I’ve grown.

This was my first love. My first everything. For so long, I believed that if I ever saw him again, I’d fall apart because I missed him so much or because I’d secretly want another chance.

People always say you’ll never get over your first love.

But here’s what I’ve learned.

Your first love can also be the first person to teach you what you should never accept again.

He hurt me. He showed me who he really was, not once, but multiple times. So why would I go back?

Sometimes I used to tell myself that maybe years from now, when we’re much older, if that’s what God intended, maybe we’d find our way back to each other.

But after seeing him on Saturday, I’ve been asking God a different question.

Why did You allow that to happen?

Why did You let our paths cross again?

Why did You let us lock eyes?

Was that my closure?

Was it a reminder of how far I’ve come?

Was it You showing me that I no longer need the answers I spent years searching for?

Or was it simply another test?

The crazy thing is, if he did reach out, I think I would be willing to have a conversation. Not because I want him back or because I’m hoping we’ll rekindle anything. I don’t. It would simply be because I’m curious.

I want to know what’s going on in his head. Why me? Why, after all this time, do you still seem to care about me or want my attention if you’re choosing to be with someone else? Why keep trying to get my attention if you have a girlfriend?

If she’s the woman you want to marry, build a life with, and have kids with, then what are you hoping to gain by keeping a connection to me? What would you gain from reaching out? What are you looking for?

I don’t think those questions come from a place of wanting him back. They come from a place of curiosity. I genuinely wonder what goes through his mind because, from my perspective, it doesn’t make sense. If you’re happy, then be happy. If you’ve moved on, then move on completely. Why keep one foot in the past?

Maybe I’ll never get those answers, and maybe I’m not supposed to. But if there was ever a conversation, it wouldn’t be to restart anything. It would simply be to understand.

I’m not going to reach out to him. If he ever wanted to, he knows how to find me. But that’s not something I’m waiting for anymore.

Months ago, I asked God to show me something. I asked Him for answers, and I felt like I didn’t get them. Maybe that’s why I didn’t feel anything when I saw him. Maybe the healing had already happened long before Saturday, and I just didn’t realize it until I was standing in front of him.

I know everything happens for a reason.

I believe God doesn’t waste moments.

I just wish I knew what this one meant.

Maybe there isn’t some huge, dramatic meaning behind it. Maybe the point wasn’t about him at all.

Maybe the point was to show me myself.

To show me that I’m no longer the 14-year-old girl searching for closure from someone who couldn’t give it to me.

Maybe the closure wasn’t a conversation.

Maybe the closure was realizing that I don’t need one anymore.

I don’t know what’s coming next, but I feel like God is preparing me for something. Maybe another lesson. Maybe another blessing. Maybe another test.

Whatever it is, I trust that when it’s time, He’ll make it clear.

Until then, I’ll keep moving forward.

I can go to the movies by myself. I can take myself out to eat. I can shop alone, read alone, travel alone, and enjoy my own company. Somewhere along the way, I learned that being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

What disappoints me isn’t solitude it’s how fake so many relationships have become.

People will smile in your face and talk behind your back. They’ll say they support you until you start doing better than them. They’ll tell you they care, but disappear when life gets hard. Real honesty has become rare because too many people would rather protect feelings than tell the truth.

A real friend doesn’t just tell you what you want to hear. They tell you what you need to hear, even if it’s uncomfortable. They hold you accountable. They celebrate your wins without jealousy. They don’t secretly compete with you. They don’t keep score.

The sad reality is that those kinds of friendships are hard to find.

I’ve realized I’d rather have peace than force connections with people who don’t genuinely care. I’d rather have one honest person in my life than ten people who only show up when it’s convenient. And if that one person never comes, I’ve learned to become someone I can depend on myself.

This isn’t about hating people. It’s about valuing authenticity. It’s about protecting my peace instead of chasing friendships that leave me questioning people’s intentions.

Maybe my circle stays small. Maybe it’s just me for a while.

And honestly, I’m okay with that.

I’m okay with having 2 real friends instead of 10 fake ones.

Because I’d rather walk alone than surround myself with people who were never truly with me in the first place.

Not because I wanted to. Not because I thought it would magically fix everything. I started smoking again because I was trying to escape my own mind.

Lately, I’ve felt so empty. The kind of empty that sits in your chest no matter how busy you keep yourself. The kind that follows you everywhere. Some days, it feels like the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart is finding a way to quiet the thoughts in my head.

I’ve been feeling incredibly alone. Even when people are around me, I still feel unseen. I feel like I have nobody to lean on, nobody who truly understands what goes on inside my mind when I’m by myself.

And love hasn’t made it any easier.

Every time I feel myself getting attached to someone, every time I think I might be falling in love, they pull away. It’s like people only stay long enough to leave a mark before disappearing. I become a chapter in their story while they become the whole book in mine.

So I started smoking again.

Not because it heals anything, but because for a little while, it helps me stop thinking. It gives my mind a break from replaying every hurt, every disappointment, every lonely night. Maybe it helps me feel something. Or maybe it helps me feel less. I honestly don’t know anymore.

The hardest part is my relationship with God.

I don’t feel His presence the way I used to. I feel distant. I feel forgotten. I pray, and sometimes it feels like my words disappear before they reach heaven. I know faith isn’t supposed to depend on feelings, but when you’re hurting, it’s hard not to wonder where God is in all of it.

Maybe the weed isn’t what I’m really searching for.

Maybe I’m searching for peace.

Maybe I’m searching for comfort.

Maybe I’m searching for proof that I matter, that I’m loved, that I won’t always feel this alone.

Right now, I’m tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of people leaving. Tired of carrying emotions that feel too heavy to hold on my own.

I started smoking again, but the truth is I wasn’t looking for a high.

I was looking for relief.

How easy it is to lose yourself when you love someone.

Not in a dramatic movie way. Not in a way that happens overnight.

But slowly.

Quietly.

The kind of losing yourself that happens when someone starts becoming the center of your world.

I’ve learned that sometimes when you love deeply, you stop checking in with yourself. Their happiness becomes your happiness. Their attention becomes your validation. Their presence becomes your peace.

And without even realizing it, you start abandoning parts of yourself.

You stop investing in your hobbies.

You stop spending as much time with friends.

You stop dreaming for yourself and start dreaming only about “us.”

At first, it feels beautiful.

It feels like devotion.

It feels like love.

But somewhere along the way, you wake up and realize you don’t know who you are outside of that person anymore.

That’s the scary part.

Because love is supposed to add to your life, not become your entire life.

I’ve always been the kind of person who loves hard. When I care, I care deeply. I remember the little things. I show up. I give my whole heart.

But I’ve had to learn that loving someone shouldn’t require abandoning myself.

Real love shouldn’t make you disappear.

It shouldn’t make your world smaller.

It shouldn’t convince you that your identity only exists through another person.

The hardest lesson I’ve had to learn is that someone can be important to you without being everything.

You can love someone and still have your own goals.

Your own passions.

Your own friendships.

Your own life.

Because the truth is, people leave.

People change.

Relationships end.

And if you’ve built your entire identity around one person, what happens when they’re gone?

You are left trying to remember who you were before them.

Lately, I’ve been realizing that the healthiest love isn’t the kind that consumes you.

It’s the kind that allows both people to grow.

The kind where you can say, “I love you,” without forgetting to say, “I love myself too.”

Maybe that’s what I’m learning.

That love should feel like coming home to yourself, not losing your way.

And maybe the deepest kind of love isn’t giving someone every piece of you.

Maybe it’s keeping enough of yourself to remain whole.

For the longest time, I thought that by a certain age I’d have everything figured out. I’d know exactly who I was, what I wanted, and where I was going. But life doesn’t really work like that. Every time I think I’ve figured something out, something changes, and I’m forced to learn again.

One thing I’m learning to accept is that not everyone is meant to stay in my life forever. Some people are only around for a season. That doesn’t mean the memories weren’t real or that the connection wasn’t important. It just means that sometimes people grow in different directions, and that’s okay.

I’m also learning to accept that progress isn’t always visible. There are days when I feel like I’m standing still, but when I look back at who I was a year ago, I realize how much I’ve actually grown. Growth doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it’s choosing yourself. Sometimes it’s setting boundaries. Sometimes it’s simply getting through a hard day.

Another thing I’m learning to accept is that I can’t control what people think of me. No matter how kind, genuine, or understanding I try to be, there will always be people who misunderstand me. Spending my energy trying to change their minds only takes away from the people who truly know and appreciate me.

I’m learning to accept that mistakes are part of life. Every embarrassing moment, wrong decision, and setback has taught me something valuable. As much as I wish I could avoid every mistake, I know I wouldn’t be the person I am without them.

Most importantly, I’m learning to accept that I don’t need to have everything figured out right now. Life isn’t a race. There isn’t a deadline for becoming the perfect version of yourself. We’re all learning as we go.

So if you’re feeling lost, confused, or behind, just know that you’re not alone. Maybe the goal isn’t to have all the answers. Maybe the goal is to keep growing, keep learning, and trust that you’ll figure things out along the way.

And honestly, I think I’m starting to be okay with that.

So about two or three weeks ago me and my homegirl went to this party and I ended up meeting this dude. He was cute, light skin with dreads, and we exchanged Instagrams. The party ended up getting shut down so everybody started going to QT trying to figure out the next addy.

Mind you I was a little tipsy and they started playing music on Apple CarPlay so me being me I got on top of the car and started shaking ass. I know, not classy at all. Anyways after that I went inside QuikTrip to refill my drink and he came up to me joking about it like “why were you cutting up on top of the car?” We started talking more and instead of just keeping my Instagram he asked for my number too so I gave it to him.

We kept seeing each other at different addys that night and later on after I got home he texted me asking when I got home and then called me. He started joking saying I better remove all the dudes from my phone and me thinking he was cute I was lowkey soaking it up. But I was also like boy stop acting like you don’t got females in your phone too and he basically admitted he did.

The next day he wanted to hang out and his homeboy wanted to talk to my homegirl so we all linked. We thought we were about to go downtown, maybe get Dutch, walk around, something simple.

Tell me why these boys drove us an hour away to the homeboy’s house.

At first it was cool. We were chilling, smoking, watching movies, talking, all that. Then the friend with the car leaves saying he’ll be right back.

That was around 11 PM.

Hours start passing and me and my homegirl are like OK we need to go home. The guys kept saying they were calling him but the dude with the car was ignoring their calls and hanging up. They kept telling us to just go to sleep and wait till morning but I was getting irritated because if I say I wanna go home then I wanna go home.

Me and my friend ended up having to get our own Uber back to my house and it cost like $60 because we were literally an hour away. We didn’t even get home until like 8 in the morning.

Then the next day the same homeboy called my friend asking if they could throw a party at her house after all that weird stuff. Obviously she said no.

Fast forward to the next weekend and we see them again at another party. The guy didn’t text me after that night or anything and every time I saw him after that he was always with another girl. Like literally every time.

So at that point I was like OK whatever he’s clearly for everybody.

One time his friend asked my homegirl where I was and I acted clueless like “who?” because why would I acknowledge somebody acting weird like that.

But then this weekend me and my homegirl were at the strip club and we spotted him there again. Mind you I was cross faded, tipsy and high, so I ended up being friendly. He came up to me talking about “why are you running from me?” and asked me for a hug. My dumb self gave him one and my homegirl was looking at me like girl what are you doing.

Then his homeboy started trying to push my friend onto another one of their friends and she was like no because they were already acting weird enough.

What confuses me is my homegirl keeps saying he actually likes me but I’m like how? This man is always with different girls, posting different girls, and moving inconsistent. That doesn’t seem like somebody that actually likes me.

And yes before y’all ask, my dumb self still let him smash.

So now I really wanna know, what would y’all do in this situation? Because somehow every time we go out we end up seeing these boys again and I don’t even know if I should keep entertaining it or just completely ignore him.

I met this guy on social media. He lived in my city, and we started talking. At first everything was cool, but then he ghosted me out of nowhere. Honestly, I wasn’t too hurt because I had already started talking to somebody else anyway, so I kept it moving. But the second he saw me going out and living my life, suddenly he wanted to come back around.

I was like okay, cool. But I never got attached because he already ghosted me once. We started talking again, and things were fine for a little while. Then one night I told him I was going out with my homegirl, and he got mad. He started telling me to delete his number and acting toxic for no reason just because I wanted to go to the club.

He even said he was going to pull up to the club, and he actually did.

We chilled in his car for a while, argued a little, then everything seemed okay again. He even drove me and my friend home afterward. But the problem was, every time I wanted to go out, he would get mad about it. And I’m thinking to myself, I’m not even your girlfriend. You act like you don’t fully want me, so of course I’m moving single.

Then I found out that the same night we linked, he linked with another girl too.

That’s when I stopped texting him because honestly, that was weird. But of course, he came back saying he missed me. And being dumb, I admitted I missed him too.

That’s where everything started getting worse.

We started arguing again because I told him I was going out with my homegirls. Before all this, he had told me he wanted a relationship too, but he “needed time” because another girl hurt him. So I tried to understand him. I tried being patient with him.

But one night he was drunk with his friends and started disrespecting me, calling me out of my name, and talking crazy for no reason. And I’m like, you’re not about to disrespect me just because you’re drunk and around your friends.

Then he sent me a picture with another girl just to make me mad.

At that point I told him if that’s what he wants to do, then leave me alone and stop hitting me up. We haven’t talked since then.

The crazy part is, I still miss him sometimes. Not because I’m in love, but because I got used to him being around. I cared about him, and I kept trying to see the good in him even when he kept showing me toxic behavior. I stayed understanding because I knew he was going through things, but eventually it started feeling like I was the only one trying.

Some people want loyalty, attention, and someone who understands them, but still move single whenever they get upset. They want you there when it benefits them, but the second they’re mad, they try to hurt you on purpose.

And honestly, that’s exhausting.

At the end of the day, I’m learning that just because you care about somebody doesn’t mean you have to keep accepting disrespect from them.

It’s like I have this huge heart, a yearning heart, and nowhere to put it. And that’s the part that gets me. Why give me the ability to love this deeply if I don’t have someone to give it to?

Lately, my relationship with God hasn’t been the best. And I feel guilty even admitting that. I’m mad. I’m frustrated. I don’t feel His presence, and that makes everything worse. It’s like I’m calling out and getting silence back, and I don’t understand why. I know what I’m “supposed” to do. I know I’m supposed to pray, read my Bible, lean into Him more, especially during times like this. I know I’m supposed to give Him all this love I’m holding inside.

But it’s hard.

Because at the end of the day, I’m still human. I still want human love too. I want a relationship. I want to be in love. I want to get married, have kids, build a life with someone. Those aren’t crazy desires, they’re normal. So when it feels like I might never get that, it hurts. It feels unfair.

And then I start thinking about things deeper, like how when you get married, that person doesn’t go with you to heaven. So if I don’t get to experience that kind of love here, then when would I ever? That thought alone makes everything feel heavier. Like I’m missing out on something that I might never get the chance to have.

It’s not just a passing feeling either. It sticks with me. I cry about it more than I’d like to admit. Because it’s not really just about a relationship, it’s about wanting to be loved in a way that feels real, present, and tangible.

And then there’s another layer to it that I don’t really say out loud. When love does come around, it never feels like the kind I actually want. It turns into something lustful, or temporary. People only seem to want one thing from me, something physical, something they can get pleasure out of, and once they get that, they lose interest. Or they cheat. Or they ghost like I never mattered in the first place.

And that part hurts in a different way.

Because I’m a female who doesn’t want that. I don’t want something half real. I don’t want to be someone’s moment or distraction. I want something deep. Raw. Honest. A real connection where I’m actually seen for who I am, not just what I can give.

But it feels sad sometimes, because I’m young and everyone keeps saying “you have your whole life ahead of you,” but that doesn’t erase how I feel right now. Time feels uncertain. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, next year isn’t guaranteed, and sometimes that thought makes everything feel even more intense. Like what if I never get the kind of love I’m hoping for while I’m here?

At the same time, there’s this guilt sitting on my chest. Because I know pulling away from God isn’t the answer. I know ignoring Him, not praying, not opening my Bible, that’s not what He wants for me. And honestly, it’s not what I want either. I just don’t know how to balance it all. How to be faithful while also being honest about what I’m feeling.

I’m stuck between what I know spiritually and what I feel emotionally.

And that’s the hardest part.

Because I don’t think it’s wrong to want love. I don’t think it’s wrong to want a relationship, to want marriage, to want a family. Those are real desires. But it also feels like I’m being asked to sit with that desire and not know when, or if, it will be met.

So I sit here, feeling everything at once. Wanting love. Missing something I’ve had once. Feeling distant from God but also guilty for that distance. Trying to make sense of it all.

And honestly, I don’t have the answers yet. I just know that this feeling is real, it’s heavy, and it matters.

I had a dream like that. I was at my best friend’s house, spending the night, and this guy came over. I didn’t know who he was, but somehow we were together. We were cuddling, talking, just being close like we were actually in a relationship. And I’m sitting there in the dream like, what is this… is he friends with my best friend or my best friend’s husband? Like how do I know him? But at the same time, I wasn’t even questioning it like that because in the dream I knew him. He knew the people around me. It all felt real and normal.

But when I woke up, I couldn’t remember anything about him. I couldn’t picture his face. I didn’t know his name. I couldn’t even tell if he was famous, not famous, a friend of theirs, or just someone random. All I could remember was how it felt to be with him.

And that’s the part that really gets you. That’s what wrecks you.

Because in the dream, I could see him clearly. I recognized him like I had known him forever. But once I woke up, it was gone, like my brain erased every single detail except the feeling. And now I’m just stuck with that feeling and no person to attach it to.

It’s frustrating. It messes with you. Because you wake up really sitting there like… who was that? Why did that feel so real? Why do I feel like I lost something that I never even had?

It makes you wonder why dreams do that. Why they feel so real just to leave you with nothing. Why it feels like you’re being shown something, but not enough to understand it. Like is this my mind playing with me, or is this something deeper? Is it a sign, or just random?

Because it don’t even feel random. It feels too real to be random.

Maybe it’s just your brain putting pieces together from people you’ve seen before. Maybe it’s a feeling you want or something you’re missing and don’t even realize it. Or maybe it’s something that hasn’t happened yet and your mind just went there.

But either way, it’s a crazy feeling waking up knowing you were close to somebody who, in real life, you don’t even know. And even though you can’t remember them, it still sits with you.

Like you really just want to know who that was.

What makes it complicated is that I’m celibate right now. And yes, I struggle with lust sometimes. I’m not afraid to admit that. There are moments where the urge hits and I wonder how people go so long without having sex. Sometimes the thought crosses my mind to just call someone and say, “Can we just do it? No feelings, just physical.” But deep down, I know I can’t do that. I can’t have sex with someone if there’s no love or real connection between us.

That’s just not who I am.

I’m someone who loves deeply, and intimacy means something to me. When sex doesn’t come with that emotional connection, it doesn’t feel right. In fact, sometimes it leaves me feeling worse afterward.

The last time I had sex, it wasn’t even something I truly wanted in that moment. It just happened. And afterward, I felt disgusting, like I had betrayed my own boundaries. Later I found out that the person was talking badly about me, and that hurt even more. It made me realize how careless some people can be with something that means so much to someone else.

What hurt the most was knowing that this was only the second person I had ever been with. My first experience was completely different. That person treated me well. He understood my body, but more importantly, there was care and intimacy there. It felt like making love, not just having sex.

And that’s the difference that matters to me.

When someone makes love to you, it feels intentional. There’s emotion, patience, and connection. It doesn’t feel rushed or selfish. It feels like both people are sharing something meaningful together. But when it’s just sex without that emotional bond, it can feel empty. Like someone just wanted to get what they needed and move on.

I’ve realized that I don’t like that feeling. I don’t like the idea of knowing that after everything is over, we’ll just go our separate ways and maybe never talk again. I don’t like the thought of there being no cuddling, no closeness, no real affection afterward. That kind of emptiness annoys me more than anything.

So yes, being celibate can be difficult sometimes. The urges are real. The loneliness can be real too. But I also know that I would rather wait for something genuine than keep putting myself in situations that leave me feeling used or disconnected.

For me, intimacy isn’t just about bodies. It’s about love, trust, and feeling safe with someone. And until that kind of connection is there, I’d rather protect my peace—even if the waiting is hard.

Do you still think about me?

Do you still love me the way I still love you?

Do we still have that connection people talk about, that soul tie?

Sometimes I swear I feel it. A random moment where you cross my mind out of nowhere. A feeling that shows up without warning. Even the smallest things bring you back to me. Sometimes I will randomly smell your scent out of nowhere and it stops me in my tracks. For a second it feels like you are right there again, like the memory of you is still living somewhere in the air around me.

And it makes me wonder if you ever feel it too. Do you ever miss me the way I miss you?

What makes it even more confusing is knowing you have a girlfriend now. I have seen the pictures, the hints on Instagram, the life you seem to be building with someone else. And I cannot help but ask myself the questions I probably should not.

Are you really happy?

Do you ever think about what we had?

When you look at her do you ever remember me?

I do not ask these questions to ruin what you have. I ask them because a part of me is still trying to understand how something that once felt so real could just become a memory.

What confuses me the most is how close and distant you are at the same time. You still reach out to my family to check up on me. Why? What does that mean? If I am still on your mind enough to ask about me then why are you not just asking me?

There are so many things I wish I could sit down and ask you.

Why did you ask me about my ex?

What are your intentions with me now? Are we friends, something more, or just two people who cannot fully let go?

Why do you still keep in contact with my family?

I hope we have these conversations sooner than later. Not years from now. Not when everything has already moved on. I hope we talk soon and finally say the things that have been sitting on both of our hearts.

The truth is I still miss you. And I still love you. It feels strange to even admit that because you hurt me, but it is the truth.

You were my first in so many ways and I loved you deeply. I have loved you unconditionally and a part of me probably always will.

But love by itself is not always enough.

If you still do not know who you are, what you want, or what kind of life you are trying to live, then we do not have a reason to keep going in circles. I cannot keep holding space in my life for someone who has not decided if they want to be there.

Maybe this is part of God’s plan. Maybe our paths will cross again one day when we are older and have figured ourselves out. Maybe we will finally understand each other in a way we could not before. And maybe we will find our way back to each other and get back together.

But right now I cannot sit around waiting for someone who does not know what they want.

I am not embarrassed to say I loved you. I am not ashamed that I still think about you sometimes. My feelings were real and they mattered.

What I will not do is let anyone make me feel stupid for loving them.

If there is one thing I have learned from all of this it is that if you are ever in a relationship and you are not happy you should have enough respect for the other person and for yourself to leave. Do not stay somewhere you know you do not belong.

Sometimes I wonder if I am dumb for even thinking about the possibility of us again someday. Maybe I am delusional. Maybe it is just the memory of what we once had.

But I still find myself asking God why.

Why do you come back to my mind right when I feel like I am finally moving on?

Why do thoughts of you show up when I am finally happy again?

Why do I randomly smell your scent sometimes like a memory I did not ask for?

Why does my heart still recognize you even when I try to let you go?

One thing I know for sure is that I have loved you unconditionally and a part of me always will. No matter where life takes us I will always care about you.

Maybe some loves do not fully disappear.

Maybe they just become questions we learn to live with.

Not because I’m busy. Not because I’m blowing up. Not because somebody is obsessed with me.

But because I’m hoping.

I check it knowing there’s no one to text me. I don’t have a man. I’m not in some secret talking stage. I’m not juggling conversations. My notifications are dry. Silent. Still. And yet I still flip my phone over every five minutes like maybe the universe changed its mind.

Maybe this time will be different.

Maybe this time there will be a name across my screen. A missed call. A “hey.” A “what you doing.” Something. Anything.

And every single time it’s the same thing.

Nothing.

It’s not even about the phone, though. It’s about what the phone represents. Attention. Connection. Being thought about. Being chosen. Being remembered in the middle of someone’s day.

Because when your phone is quiet, it can start to feel like you are too.

And that’s the part nobody talks about. The tiny heartbreak of checking your screen and seeing nothing. The way your stomach drops for a second even though you knew there wouldn’t be anything there. The way you pretend it doesn’t bother you, but it does. Just a little.

It’s not that I need constant validation. It’s not that I can’t be alone. I just want to feel wanted. To feel like somewhere, someone thought, “Let me text her.”

Instead, it’s silence.

So I check again.

And maybe that says more about hope than loneliness. Because even after being disappointed over and over, I still believe that one day my phone will light up with something real. Not random. Not forced. But genuine.

Maybe I’m not addicted to my phone.

Maybe I’m addicted to the possibility.

I’m 18. I’ve only been in one relationship, and that was when I was 15. Since then? Nothing. No almosts. No real maybes. No “we were talking.” Just… me.

And what really gets me is that I never get approached. Ever.

People tell me I’m pretty. They tell me I’m beautiful. They hype me up. I hype myself up too because I genuinely believe it. I know I’m beautiful. I know I’m confident. I know I carry myself well. So why does it feel like none of that translates in real life?

When I go out, my friends get approached. My best friend gets approached. Random girls in the same room get approached. I’m standing right there. Smiling. Looking good. Existing. And it’s like I’m invisible.

And it’s not even just in person. I don’t get random follows. I don’t get DMs. I don’t get that energy where a guy makes it obvious he’s interested. If something is ever going to happen, I have to go out of my way to make it happen. I have to follow first. I have to start the conversation. I have to put myself out there.

But I don’t.

Because the second I even think about walking up to a guy I find attractive, my brain turns against me. He’s probably not into you. You’re not his type. He wouldn’t even look twice. So I stay quiet. I play it safe. And then I go home wondering why nothing ever happens.

It’s such a weird space to be in. I’m such a lover girl. I love love. I love the idea of being someone’s favorite person. I love soft moments and deep conversations and feeling chosen. I know I have so much love to give. And it honestly hurts feeling like there’s nowhere for it to go.

Sometimes I start thinking maybe it’s God protecting me. Maybe the men I want just aren’t meant for me. Maybe I’m being saved from something I can’t see. But then there are nights where it feels less spiritual and more personal. Like maybe I’m just not desirable. Maybe I’m not as attractive as people say. Maybe confidence doesn’t matter as much as I thought.

And that’s the part that stings.

Because I don’t hate myself. I’m not insecure about how I look. I boost my ego daily. I know what I bring to the table. So when the guys I like never approach me or never seem attracted to me, it makes me question everything. What am I doing wrong? Is it my vibe? Is it my energy? Am I too reserved? Too intimidating? Not enough of something?

It’s frustrating watching everyone else experience the thing you crave so naturally. Like it just happens for them. Meanwhile, you’re sitting there wondering if you missed a class on how to be chosen.

And maybe I haven’t. Maybe nothing is wrong with me at all.

Maybe being 18 means life is still unfolding. Maybe the right person just hasn’t crossed my path yet. Maybe I won’t have to chase or question or shrink myself when it’s real. Maybe one day I’ll look back at this version of me and realize I wasn’t being rejected. I was just being redirected.

But right now, in this moment, it still hurts a little.

Because being a lover girl with no one to love feels like holding a full heart with nowhere to pour it.

God really made some fine men. Like actually took His time. I’ll be watching hockey, especially stuff like Heated Rivalry, and I’m just sitting there admiring them like they’re my own. The hockey players. Black men. Russian men. White men. It’s like everywhere I look lately I’m just noticing how good men look.

Maybe it’s my hormones being all over the place. Maybe it’s because I lowkey want a relationship. I don’t know. But white men have been looking so good to me lately and I’m just like damn… God did not rush that creation.

And I don’t even mean it sexually. It’s not about bodies. It’s not even about that. It’s their faces. Their facial structure. The way their eyes look when they’re serious or passionate. Their voices. The way some of them are so calm and amiable and just naturally attractive without even trying. The way they carry themselves. It’s just something about them.

I genuinely love the feeling I get knowing there are beautiful men out there in this world. Like real life beautiful men. And the women who get to love them, their girlfriends, their wives, they are so lucky. It’s special.

Men openly admire women all the time. They hype up women’s beauty constantly. So why can’t we do the same? Why can’t we just admit that men are handsome and appreciate that without it being weird? I’m not losing myself over it. I’m not obsessing. I just appreciate beauty when I see it.

Maybe it’s the lover girl in me. The romantic in me. The part of me that likes the idea of admiring someone and thinking wow you’re beautiful and I get butterflies just knowing you exist. I love that feeling. I love knowing there are good looking, kind, soft spoken, confident men walking around this earth.

“the reason i liked headed rivalry so much is because i got to see two people yearn and fall in love as equals and without misogyny”

Tom meets Summer and immediately decides she’s different. Not just pretty. Not just cool. Different. He believes in soulmates. He believes in signs. He believes that when you know, you know. And the second she smiles at him, he thinks he knows.

And honestly? I relate to that so much.

I relate to loving hard. To romanticizing everything. To hearing one song and being like “this is our song.” To overanalyzing small moments and turning them into something huge. Tom fell in love fast because he wanted to. Because he was ready to. Because he believed love was supposed to sweep you off your feet. And I’ve been there. I am there sometimes.

But I also relate to Summer, which is the confusing part.

Summer says from the beginning that she doesn’t believe in love. She doesn’t want a relationship. She doesn’t want to be anybody’s anything. And she meant that. But at the same time, she holds his hand. She sleeps next to him. She spends all her free time with him. They go to IKEA and act like a married couple. They have inside jokes. They have routines. They look like a relationship.

So of course he’s going to feel like it’s more.

And I get that too. I understand being scared of commitment but still wanting marriage one day. Wanting love but being terrified of losing yourself in it. Saying you don’t want something serious but still craving closeness. That push and pull is so real. I’ve felt it. Wanting someone but also wanting an exit door just in case it gets too real.

That’s why this movie hurts. Because nobody is fully the villain.

Yes, Summer told him her intentions. But she also blurred the lines. And yes, Tom was warned. But he ignored it because he was in love with the idea of her. He created this perfect version of her in his head. He only saw what fit his fantasy.

And that expectation vs. reality scene? That scene is painful because it’s too real. We’ve all walked into something hoping it would fix everything. Hoping they’d look at us and realize we were the one. And then reality hits you in the face.

When Summer gets married six months later, it feels like betrayal. Like how do you go from “I don’t believe in love” to being someone’s wife that fast? That part hurts because it makes you question everything. Was it ever real? Did it mean anything?

But here’s the uncomfortable truth. Sometimes it’s not that someone doesn’t believe in love. It’s that they didn’t feel it the way you did. And that doesn’t make them evil. It just makes it uneven.

Not everyone you meet is meant to stay. Not everyone who feels like your person actually is. Some people are just lessons. Some people show you your attachment style. Some people show you how deeply you can feel.

Tom has anxious energy. He clings to the fantasy. He thinks love is supposed to be intense and dramatic and all-consuming. He thinks if it feels strong, it must be right. And I relate to that so much it’s embarrassing. Confusing obsession with destiny. Confusing butterflies with compatibility.

But Summer has avoidant energy. She keeps one foot out the door. She wants connection but without the pressure. She doesn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s happiness. And I relate to that too. Being scared of being someone’s everything. Being scared of hurting someone or being trapped.

That’s why this movie is so “juicy to die” emotional. Because it feels like real life. Real life is messy. Love is messy. It comes with miscommunication, different expectations, and sometimes heartbreak no matter how much you care.

And the hardest part? It feels like a love story even though it’s not.

We want it to be one. We want them to end up together. We want the big speech and the realization and the happy ending. But that’s not what happens. Because sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes timing isn’t right. Sometimes two people can care about each other and still not be meant for each other.

And then there’s Autumn.

Autumn isn’t the reward for surviving Summer. She isn’t proof that everything worked out. When Tom meets her and the day count restarts, it looks hopeful. It looks fresh. But if you really think about it, he wasn’t fully healed. He was still romantic. Still dreamy. Still believing the next girl could fix the ache the last one left.

Autumn is just another season.

If Tom didn’t actually learn from Summer, then he’s just going to repeat the same cycle. Idealize. Fall fast. Ignore red flags. Get heartbroken. Again.

And that’s the real point.

The seasons change. The names change. But if you don’t grow, the story stays the same.

I relate to Tom and Summer at the same time, and that’s why this movie feels so personal. It’s about yearning and fear. About loving too hard and not wanting to love at all. About fantasy versus reality.

It’s not a love story.

It just feels like one.

It feels unreal.

When birthdays are around the corner, nobody really talks about the emotions that come with them. We talk about cake and outfits and pictures and turning up. But we do not talk enough about birthday blues. We do not talk about birthday anxiety. We do not talk about that heavy feeling in your chest that shows up a few days before. The overthinking. The pressure. The quiet fear that maybe this year did not look the way you thought it would.

Some people hate their birthdays. Some people never really celebrated them. Some people never had anyone to make them feel special. Some people associate their birthday with bad memories, bad luck, disappointment. For me, it always felt like something went wrong. Every year there was something. An accident in front of me. Something bad happening. Plans falling apart. Someone getting hurt. It was like I could never just have a peaceful birthday. It always felt cursed in a way.

This year my plans fell apart too. Financial reasons. Stress. Watching everything I had pictured crumble. I really thought this year was going to be different. I really thought I was going to change everything. I had plans. I had ideas. I saw it all in my head. And then reality hit and it did not go how I imagined.

That hurt.

It made me sad in a way that is hard to explain. Not because of gifts or parties, but because I wanted proof that this year would be different. I wanted something to follow through exactly how I planned it. I wanted to feel in control.

But even though my plans did not go the way I thought, I still had one of the most blessed birthdays of my life.

For the first time ever, I felt truly celebrated. Not just told happy birthday. Not just a quick text. I mean celebrated in a way I had never experienced before. I got something I had never gotten. I felt seen. I felt chosen. I felt important. It was the first time in my life that my birthday did not feel like an afterthought.

And turning eighteen is amazing. It is a blessing. Some people do not even make it this far. That alone is enough to pause and breathe and say thank you God.

What makes it even crazier is that this year there was no bad luck. No accident in front of me. No injury. No sudden disaster canceling everything. No chaos swallowing the day. It was peaceful. And that peace almost felt unfamiliar.

I was so emotional but I could not even cry. Everyone kept asking how do you feel. How does it feel to be eighteen. And I did not know what to say. Because low key, I felt the same. I did not wake up magically different. I did not feel older in my bones. It still just felt like me.

That is the funny thing about birthdays. We expect a transformation. We expect fireworks in our spirit. We expect to suddenly feel wiser, stronger, brand new. But sometimes it just feels like another day that happens to celebrate the fact that you were given life.

And that is enough.

But there is something deeper too. There is a quiet realization that hits hard. I did not know I was going to make it to this age. There were moments in my life where I truly believed I would not be here. Moments where the darkness felt heavier than the light. Moments where I could not see a future version of myself at eighteen.

And now I am here.

Sitting in that realization is overwhelming. Thinking about what my life would have been if I had not stayed. If I had not pushed through. If I had given up before I ever saw this age. I would not have met the people I have met. I would not have experienced the love I have experienced. I would not have grown into the woman I am becoming.

There are versions of me that never got to exist because I chose to stay.

That is powerful.

Birthdays are not just about getting older. They are about survival. They are about endurance. They are about looking back at everything that tried to break you and realizing you are still here. You are breathing. You are growing. You are becoming.

It is okay to feel happy and anxious at the same time. It is okay to feel grateful and overwhelmed. It is okay to not know exactly how you are supposed to feel. There is no rule book for birthdays. There is no required emotion.

All I know is that this year felt different in a quiet way. Not because everything was perfect. Not because all my plans came true. But because I am still here. Because I got to experience being celebrated in a way I never had before. Because I saw what it feels like when bad luck does not show up. Because I realized that my story is still being written.

And most of all, I have to give all the grace to God. Through every bad birthday. Through every accident. Through every plan that fell apart. Through every dark thought that told me I would not make it. God kept me here.

Eighteen is not just an age. It is proof.

Proof that I survived.

Proof that I am growing.

Proof that there is more ahead of me.

Proof that my life still has purpose.

And even if I feel the same on the outside, something inside me knows this is a blessing.

I feel this every single year.

Every year it is the same ache. I want to break down and sob and cry to God and ask why. Why have I never been loved romantically on my birthday. I have lived all these years, and not once have I received a Valentine’s gift from a boyfriend. Not once have I gotten a birthday gift from a boyfriend. It has always been family. Always friends. And I am grateful, I truly am, but sometimes it is like goddamn. I go through this every year and it gets harder every time.

I find myself asking when will I be happy and what does it take for me to finally get my turn. I pray so hard for God to take this feeling out of my heart if love is not meant for me. Because I have such a big heart, and there is nowhere for it to go except family and friends. And that hurts. It really hurts. Having a birthday in February already feels lonely, but having it the day before Valentine’s Day while always being single makes it even heavier.

I am blessed. I know that. I am blessed to be alive and to see another year. But it does not make it easier watching everyone around me post their happiness, flowers, gifts, and words about love, while I sit there wondering when it will be my turn. When will I get my happy ending. When will I have kids. What am I supposed to do. Why do I have to sob every year like this.

I beg God for this love. I really do. I know God loves me, and I know I should pour that love into Him. But I want to give that love to someone in this world. To a man. To someone I can touch and talk to and grow with. I want to feel that love returned.

Instead, every relationship I enter ends the same way. I get done dirty. I get trashed and talked down on. And it makes me wonder when I will ever be happy on my birthday. Yes, I smile and celebrate, but romantically, when will I finally feel chosen.

I do not want another Valentine’s gift from my mom or my siblings or my friends, even though I love them deeply. I want the kind of love everyone else seems to have so easily. And I hate admitting this, but I am starting to lose hope. Hope in relationships. Hope in love. It feels like the love inside me is slowly dying, and that scares me.

Sometimes I wonder if I have to let love go completely. If I have to accept that maybe kids, marriage, and that kind of love are just not in God’s plan for me. And if that is true, then I honestly pray that God takes the desire away. Because wanting something this badly, year after year, and never receiving it hurts too much.

From the very beginning Charlie is already grieving. Before the movie even really starts we learn that his best friend killed himself. That loss follows Charlie everywhere. It explains why he is quiet why he feels things so deeply and why he already carries guilt sadness and confusion into high school. A lot of people can relate to that feeling of losing someone too early or watching someone you care about disappear and realizing life does not stop just because you are hurting. Everyone else keeps moving while you are still trying to breathe.

Charlie feels like the kid who exists on the outside of everything. He walks the halls alone eats lunch alone and watches other people live their lives while feeling like he is not really part of his own. That loneliness is painfully familiar to anyone who has struggled with depression in high school. You can be surrounded by people every single day and still feel completely invisible. Charlie is not lonely because he wants to be. He is lonely because he does not know how to connect without feeling like a burden.

Then Sam and Patrick enter his life and everything changes. This part of the movie hits hard because it captures that moment when you finally find your people. Sam and Patrick do not judge Charlie for being quiet or awkward. They see him. They include him. They make him feel like he belongs somewhere for the first time in a long time. For many people that friend group feels like survival. It is the group that saves you from your darkest thoughts the group that gives you a reason to keep showing up.

Sam is deeply relatable in her own way. She is kind warm and understanding but she is also hurting. She has been through things that changed how she sees herself and how she lets people love her. Sam represents the person in the friend group who seems strong and comforting but is still dealing with trauma and insecurity. A lot of people see themselves in Sam because she accepts love she thinks she deserves even when it hurts her. She shows how trauma can quietly shape your choices without you even realizing it.

Patrick is another kind of relatable. He is funny loud and full of life but underneath that he is dealing with heartbreak rejection and being forced to hide who he is. Patrick shows how someone can be the light of the group while still feeling deeply alone. Many people relate to being the one who makes everyone laugh while breaking inside. His pain is real and raw especially when he is hurting over a relationship that the world does not allow him to fully have.

Even Sam sister Candace is relatable in a painful way. She represents the person who stays in toxic relationships because they feel stuck scared or unsure of their worth. Watching her struggle shows how easy it is to lose yourself when you are trying to hold onto something that is hurting you. A lot of people see themselves or someone they know in her story and that makes it hit even closer to home.

What makes the movie so powerful is that it shows how everyone in the friend group is struggling in different ways. Some are dealing with depression. Some are dealing with suicidal thoughts. Some are dealing with abuse heartbreak or identity. It shows that pain does not look the same on everyone. Someone can be smiling dancing laughing and still be drowning inside.

As the movie goes on Charlie starts to fall apart because he has never learned how to process everything he has been holding in. His trauma his guilt over his friend death his family pain and his fear of losing the people he loves all collide at once. That breakdown feels real because that is how it often happens in real life. You hold it together until you cannot anymore.

The movie does not make mental illness pretty or easy. It shows how scary it can be to feel like you are losing control of your own mind. It also shows how important it is to be seen and supported even when you feel broken. Charlie journey reminds people that being sensitive emotional and quiet does not mean you are weak. It means you feel deeply in a world that often tells you not to.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is relatable because it tells the truth. Friend groups change. People drift apart. Happiness is not permanent. Healing is not linear. Sometimes the people who save you cannot stay forever. Sometimes you end up alone again after finally feeling okay and that hurts more than the first time.

But the movie also leaves you with something important. Even if moments do not last they still matter. Even if people leave the love was still real. Even if you struggle you are not alone in that struggle.

That is why this movie means so much to people who have felt lonely depressed or lost in high school. It does not promise everything will be perfect. It simply says you are not crazy for feeling this way. You are not invisible. And you are not the only one trying to survive.