u/Hungry_Guidance3516

They ask me,

“Don’t you want someone?”

And I almost laugh

because want is not the problem.

Want lives inside me

like a cathedral built from longing.

It echoes in empty hallways.

It kneels in quiet corners.

It aches without permission.

I want to be held

the way broken things are held

when someone still believes

they can be mended.

I want to be chosen

without hesitation

without comparison

without someone secretly thinking

he will do for now.

I want a love

that does not feel accidental.

But the truth I never speak

the truth that sleeps like rust behind my ribs

is that I do not believe

I am meant for that kind of warmth.

Every time someone comes close

something inside me whispers

If they see you fully they will regret it.

I flinch at softness

as if it were an error.

I question kindness

as if it were misplaced.

Why would anyone stay

once they discover

how heavy I am.

How complicated.

How anxious.

How unfinished.

I carry this quiet belief

that love is a privilege

reserved for better men.

Men who do not overthink.

Men who do not spiral.

Men who do not need reassurance

like oxygen.

I tell myself

I would only burden her.

That one day she would look at me

with tired eyes and think

I could have chosen easier.

So when someone begins to care

I begin to measure my exit.

Too soon.

Too intense.

Too good.

If it feels safe

I assume it is temporary.

If it feels beautiful

I assume it is fragile.

And before they can discover

whatever defect I am certain lives in me

I step back.

Not because I do not want love

but because I believe

I am not built to keep it.

I convince myself

they deserve someone lighter

stronger

more certain

less afraid of being left.

So I leave first.

I break my own heart quietly

so no one else has to do it.

And then I sit alone

pretending this isolation

is wisdom.

But it is not wisdom.

It is fear disguised as humility.

It is self doubt pretending to be kindness.

The cruelest part is this.

When I see two people laughing freely

when I watch someone hold another

like they are home

I do not think

I wish I had that.

I think

That kind of love is not meant for me.

As if I was born

slightly outside the circle of deserving.

As if I am a lesson

not a blessing.

A rehearsal

not the final choice.

And so I keep my walls high

not to protect myself from heartbreak

but to protect someone else

from the mistake of loving me.

Because somewhere deep inside

beneath the longing

beneath the ache

I have accepted the idea

that I am easier to leave

than to stay for.

And maybe that is why

when they ask

Don’t you want someone

I smile.

Because wanting

has never been the problem.

Believing I deserve it

has.

They ask me,

“Don’t you want someone?”

And I almost laugh

because want is not the problem.

Want lives inside me

like a cathedral built from longing.

It echoes in empty hallways.

It kneels in quiet corners.

It aches without permission.

I want to be held

the way broken things are held

when someone still believes

they can be mended.

I want to be chosen

without hesitation

without comparison

without someone secretly thinking

he will do for now.

I want a love

that does not feel accidental.

But the truth I never speak

the truth that sleeps like rust behind my ribs

is that I do not believe

I am meant for that kind of warmth.

Every time someone comes close

something inside me whispers

If they see you fully they will regret it.

I flinch at softness

as if it were an error.

I question kindness

as if it were misplaced.

Why would anyone stay

once they discover

how heavy I am.

How complicated.

How anxious.

How unfinished.

I carry this quiet belief

that love is a privilege

reserved for better men.

Men who do not overthink.

Men who do not spiral.

Men who do not need reassurance

like oxygen.

I tell myself

I would only burden her.

That one day she would look at me

with tired eyes and think

I could have chosen easier.

So when someone begins to care

I begin to measure my exit.

Too soon.

Too intense.

Too good.

If it feels safe

I assume it is temporary.

If it feels beautiful

I assume it is fragile.

And before they can discover

whatever defect I am certain lives in me

I step back.

Not because I do not want love

but because I believe

I am not built to keep it.

I convince myself

they deserve someone lighter

stronger

more certain

less afraid of being left.

So I leave first.

I break my own heart quietly

so no one else has to do it.

And then I sit alone

pretending this isolation

is wisdom.

But it is not wisdom.

It is fear disguised as humility.

It is self doubt pretending to be kindness.

The cruelest part is this.

When I see two people laughing freely

when I watch someone hold another

like they are home

I do not think

I wish I had that.

I think

That kind of love is not meant for me.

As if I was born

slightly outside the circle of deserving.

As if I am a lesson

not a blessing.

A rehearsal

not the final choice.

And so I keep my walls high

not to protect myself from heartbreak

but to protect someone else

from the mistake of loving me.

Because somewhere deep inside

beneath the longing

beneath the ache

I have accepted the idea

that I am easier to leave

than to stay for.

And maybe that is why

when they ask

Don’t you want someone

I smile.

Because wanting

has never been the problem.

Believing I deserve it

has.

I hate who I have become.

I hate it with a quiet violence

that no one sees.

I never wanted to be this person.

I never imagined that one day

I would wake up

and feel like a stranger

living inside my own body.

I do not like getting up anymore.

The mirror waits for me

like a silent judge.

It does not speak.

It does not need to.

One look is enough

to remind me

of everything I failed to be.

I stand there

feeling ashamed

of the face staring back at me.

I hate waking up defeated

before the day has even begun.

It feels like losing a war

before I have even opened my eyes.

Every morning I rise

a little more hollow

than I was the day before.

Yesterday leaves behind a shell

and somehow

I crawl into it again

pretending it is still a man.

My thoughts are merciless.

They arrive every day

like collectors

demanding their payment.

A pound of flesh from my soul.

A little hope taken today.

A little dignity tomorrow.

A little courage the next day.

Until I stand there wondering

why everything inside me

feels so empty.

I hate that I became like this.

I hate it.

I do not want to be this person

who breaks so easily.

I do not want to cry this often.

I do not want to carry

this endless heaviness.

I do not want to always be

an inferior version

of myself.

I remember the person

I used to be.

And the memory hurts

more than the pain itself.

Because now

I am just the shadow

of that man.

A smaller version.

A quieter version.

A weaker version.

Every day my mind

takes something from me.

Every day my thoughts

cut another piece

from my spirit.

And I keep living

as if nothing is wrong.

Just bones

covered in routine

moving through the world

to survive

to provide

to continue.

But inside

everything feels drained.

Joy feels distant.

Hope feels borrowed.

Living feels like something

I am pretending to do.

I know the darkness

inside my mind too well.

I know how it consumes me.

How it spreads slowly

until even good moments

feel temporary.

I am trying.

I swear I am trying.

But trying feels like

pushing against a wall

that refuses to move.

It feels like running

inside a room

that has no doors.

I want to get better.

God knows I want to.

But wanting something

and being able to reach it

are not the same thing.

It feels like I am stuck.

Like my mind built a prison

and forgot to leave a key.

So I wake up every day

already tired.

Already defeated.

Already smaller

than I hoped to be.

And still

I keep walking.

I cry more often

than anyone will ever know.

Quiet tears

that disappear

before anyone notices.

I try to hold myself together.

But guilt

is heavier than people realize.

It pulls me down

every time I try to stand.

And then there is another weight.

The fear

that I have shared too much.

That I have already poured

too much darkness

into someone else's life.

I cannot do that anymore.

I cannot keep dragging someone

into the night

my mind lives in.

You deserve lighter days.

You deserve laughter

without shadows.

I have seen the difference

between when I speak

and when I remain silent.

When I speak

my storms spread.

When I stay silent

they remain with me.

And maybe

that is where they belong.

Because I fear

I have already taken advantage

of kindness I never deserved.

I leaned too much

on someone who only wanted to help.

And realizing that

breaks something inside me.

Because you should never have to carry

a mind like mine.

So I stop talking.

Not because the pain is gone.

But because it should not belong

to anyone else.

And still

the guilt remains.

Telling me

I am weak.

Telling me

I am making a big fuss

over problems

that stronger people

would simply endure.

Maybe my pain

is not as big as it feels.

Maybe I am the one

making it bigger.

Maybe I am just a man

who never learned

how to fight his own mind.

Maybe I really am

what I fear the most.

A loser

who could never become

the man he hoped to be.

And that thought

sits quietly beside me

every night.

So if I grow silent

if I stop sharing

if my words become fewer

please understand

it is not distance.

It is helplessness.

The helpless decision

of someone who knows

how dark his world can be

and refuses

to pull another soul into it.

Because I already hate

what it has done to me.

And after everything

after all the tears

after all the shame

after all the battles

I keep losing inside my own head

there is only one thing

left for me to say.

I am sorry.

Tell me what I did

Say it plainly

Point to the moment where I became this mistake

Was it when I loved too deeply

When I stayed longer than pride allows

When I forgave before an apology even arrived

When I carried the weight of someone else’s silence

as if it were mine to carry

Tell me where the crime is

Because I remember trying

God I remember trying

I remember choosing kindness

when bitterness would have been easier

I remember swallowing words

so no one would feel the sharp edge of them

I remember bending

again

and again

and again

until something inside me quietly cracked

And still

it is me standing here

as if I am the one who ruined everything

I keep asking the same question

like a man knocking on a locked door

that no one inside plans to open

What did I do

What did I do

What did I do

I loved

I cared

I stayed

I sacrificed pieces of myself

so quietly

that even I did not notice how much of me was gone

And somehow

that became my fault

Now the smallest things hurt like storms

A sentence

A silence

A look that lingers half a second too long

People say

it is such a small thing

why does it break you like this

I want to answer them

but the truth is humiliating

Because it is not the small thing

It is every moment I held myself together

when something inside me was begging to collapse

It is every night I convinced myself

that if I tried harder

loved better

became softer

became less

then maybe

just maybe

I would finally be enough

But tonight I sit here wondering

How can a man who tried this hard

feel this empty

How can someone who gave so much

feel like a burden

How can a heart that only wanted to love

end up feeling like a crime scene

And the cruelest part

No one even knows the trial is happening

No one hears the questions echoing in my chest

like a desperate prayer

What did I do wrong

Why does it hurt this much

Why does it feel like I am being punished

for something

no one will tell me

If love is not the crime

if caring is not the crime

if staying is not the crime

Then tell me

Why does the sentence

still fall on me.

Main kai baar mar chuka hoon,

shareer se nahin

par apne hi andar.

Har baar jab umeed tooti,

ek hissa mera chupchaap

zameen ke neeche utar gaya.

Koi shor nahin hua,

koi cheekh nahin nikli,

bas dil ke kisi kone mein

mitti thodi aur bhar gayi.

Maine khud hi kandha diya

apne hi sapno ki laash ko.

Khud hi kafan odhaya

un yakeenon ko

jo kehte the

sab theek ho jayega.

Kabhi bharosa mara,

kabhi bachpan,

kabhi wo masoom yakeen

ki koi to hoga

jo bina shart saath khada hoga.

Maine dafan kar diye

wo saare khat

jo kabhi bheje hi nahin gaye.

Wo saare shabd

jo gale mein atak kar

aankhon se beh nikle.

Kisi ne shok nahin manaya.

Kisi ne poocha bhi nahin

ki aaj tum itne khamosh kyon ho.

Sabne bas itna kaha

tum badal gaye ho.

Haan badal gaya hoon main.

Kyunki jo pehle tha

wo ab hai hi nahin.

Wo ladka

jo har kisi ke liye ladta tha,

aaj khud ke liye bhi

awaaz nahin utha pata.

Wo dil

jo har dard par pighal jata tha,

ab patthar nahin

bas thaka hua hai.

Kabhi lagta hai

maine apne hi haathon

apne hi hisson ko maar diya

wo hissa jo bharosa karta tha,

wo jo pyaar chahta tha,

wo jo sochta tha

ki shayad

main bhi kisi ke liye kaafi ho sakta hoon.

Ab jab aaine mein dekhta hoon,

to chehra wahi hai

par aankhon mein

kabristan basta hai.

Har muskaan ke neeche

ek janaaza chhupa hai.

Har main theek hoon ke peeche

ek adhoori dua.

Main zinda hoon

par poora nahin.

Main saans le raha hoon

par bheetar kahin

ruka hua hoon.

Aur ajeeb baat ye hai

ki duniya ab bhi poochti hai

itne alag kyon lagte ho.

Kaise bataun

ki jo pehle tha

wo ab is duniya mein nahin raha.

Maine khud hi use dafanaya hai

raat ke andhere mein

aankhon ki baarish ke saath.

Koi gawah nahin tha.

Koi tasalli dene wala nahin.

Bas main tha

aur mera toota hua yakeen.

Main kai baar mar chuka hoon

par har baar

subah uthkar

zinda hone ka naatak bhi

maine hi kiya hai.

Tell me what I did

Say it plainly

Point to the moment where I became this mistake

Was it when I loved too deeply

When I stayed longer than pride allows

When I forgave before an apology even arrived

When I carried the weight of someone else’s silence

as if it were mine to carry

Tell me where the crime is

Because I remember trying

God I remember trying

I remember choosing kindness

when bitterness would have been easier

I remember swallowing words

so no one would feel the sharp edge of them

I remember bending

again

and again

and again

until something inside me quietly cracked

And still

it is me standing here

as if I am the one who ruined everything

I keep asking the same question

like a man knocking on a locked door

that no one inside plans to open

What did I do

What did I do

What did I do

I loved

I cared

I stayed

I sacrificed pieces of myself

so quietly

that even I did not notice how much of me was gone

And somehow

that became my fault

Now the smallest things hurt like storms

A sentence

A silence

A look that lingers half a second too long

People say

it is such a small thing

why does it break you like this

I want to answer them

but the truth is humiliating

Because it is not the small thing

It is every moment I held myself together

when something inside me was begging to collapse

It is every night I convinced myself

that if I tried harder

loved better

became softer

became less

then maybe

just maybe

I would finally be enough

But tonight I sit here wondering

How can a man who tried this hard

feel this empty

How can someone who gave so much

feel like a burden

How can a heart that only wanted to love

end up feeling like a crime scene

And the cruelest part

No one even knows the trial is happening

No one hears the questions echoing in my chest

like a desperate prayer

What did I do wrong

Why does it hurt this much

Why does it feel like I am being punished

for something

no one will tell me

If love is not the crime

if caring is not the crime

if staying is not the crime

Then tell me

Why does the sentence

still fall on me.

Main tumhe jaanta nahi hoon,

phir bhi tumhari kami

mere har din mein likhi rehti hai.

Jaise koi adhoora misra

jo sirf tumhare naam se

mukammal ho sakta hai.

Tum meri zindagi ka woh hissa ho

jo abhi saamne nahi aaya,

lekin jiska ehsaas

har saans ke saath

mere saath chalta hai.

Mujhe tumhari soorat ka ilm nahi,

na tumhari awaaz ka pata,

magar dil jaanta hai

tum jab muskuraogi,

toh meri saari thakaan

khud-ba-khud utar jaayegi.

Kabhi kabhi raat ke aakhri pehar,

jab sheher khamosh ho jaata hai,

main tumhara tasavvur

apni tanhaai se baant leta hoon.

Tum sun nahi paati,

magar yaqeen maano

meri har dua

tum tak pahunchti hai.

Tum shayad kisi aur aasmaan ke neeche

apni zindagi jee rahi hogi,

kisi aur kahaani ka kirdaar hogi,

aur tumhe zara bhi andaaza nahi

ki kahin koi

tumhari mohabbat mein

be-ikhteyaar saabit ho chuka hai.

Main tumhe khwaab nahi kehta,

khwaab to bikhar jaate hain.

Tum toh woh dua ho

jo qubool hone se pehle bhi

dil ko sukoon de jaati hai.

Jab hum milenge,

toh shayad koi badi baat nahi hogi.

Na koi shor,

na koi hairat.

Bas ek gehri si khamoshi hogi,

jo keh degi

“Yahi thi woh,

jiska intezaar tha.”

Main tumse ishq

pehli nazar ka nahi karunga.

Main tumse ishq

pehchaan ka karunga.

Jaise rooh

apni gum-shuda cheez ko

aakhirkaar pehchaan leti hai.

Tumhari aankhon mein

main apna mustaqbil dekhoonga,

tumhari khamoshi mein

apni panah paoonga,

aur tumhare saath

sirf mohabbat nahi

zindagi nibhaunga.

Agar kabhi tum tooti hui si mehsoos karo,

toh yaad rakhna

kisi mod par

meri wafaa

tumhara intezaar kar rahi hogi.

Main tumse milne se pehle hi

tumhara ho chuka hoon.

Meri kahaani ka sabse haseen hissa

abhi likha jaana baaki hai

aur us par

sirf tumhara naam jachta hai.

Isliye jab bhi zindagi

tumhe meri taraf laaye,

toh hairaan mat hona.

Main pehle hi keh chuka hoonga

“Tum der se nahi aayi ho

tum wahi ho

jiska wada

waqt ne mujhse kiya tha.”

I hate who I have become.

I hate it with a quiet violence

that no one sees.

I never wanted to be this person.

I never imagined that one day

I would wake up

and feel like a stranger

living inside my own body.

I do not like getting up anymore.

The mirror waits for me

like a silent judge.

It does not speak.

It does not need to.

One look is enough

to remind me

of everything I failed to be.

I stand there

feeling ashamed

of the face staring back at me.

I hate waking up defeated

before the day has even begun.

It feels like losing a war

before I have even opened my eyes.

Every morning I rise

a little more hollow

than I was the day before.

Yesterday leaves behind a shell

and somehow

I crawl into it again

pretending it is still a man.

My thoughts are merciless.

They arrive every day

like collectors

demanding their payment.

A pound of flesh from my soul.

A little hope taken today.

A little dignity tomorrow.

A little courage the next day.

Until I stand there wondering

why everything inside me

feels so empty.

I hate that I became like this.

I hate it.

I do not want to be this person

who breaks so easily.

I do not want to cry this often.

I do not want to carry

this endless heaviness.

I do not want to always be

an inferior version

of myself.

I remember the person

I used to be.

And the memory hurts

more than the pain itself.

Because now

I am just the shadow

of that man.

A smaller version.

A quieter version.

A weaker version.

Every day my mind

takes something from me.

Every day my thoughts

cut another piece

from my spirit.

And I keep living

as if nothing is wrong.

Just bones

covered in routine

moving through the world

to survive

to provide

to continue.

But inside

everything feels drained.

Joy feels distant.

Hope feels borrowed.

Living feels like something

I am pretending to do.

I know the darkness

inside my mind too well.

I know how it consumes me.

How it spreads slowly

until even good moments

feel temporary.

I am trying.

I swear I am trying.

But trying feels like

pushing against a wall

that refuses to move.

It feels like running

inside a room

that has no doors.

I want to get better.

God knows I want to.

But wanting something

and being able to reach it

are not the same thing.

It feels like I am stuck.

Like my mind built a prison

and forgot to leave a key.

So I wake up every day

already tired.

Already defeated.

Already smaller

than I hoped to be.

And still

I keep walking.

I cry more often

than anyone will ever know.

Quiet tears

that disappear

before anyone notices.

I try to hold myself together.

But guilt

is heavier than people realize.

It pulls me down

every time I try to stand.

And then there is another weight.

The fear

that I have shared too much.

That I have already poured

too much darkness

into someone else's life.

I cannot do that anymore.

I cannot keep dragging someone

into the night

my mind lives in.

You deserve lighter days.

You deserve laughter

without shadows.

I have seen the difference

between when I speak

and when I remain silent.

When I speak

my storms spread.

When I stay silent

they remain with me.

And maybe

that is where they belong.

Because I fear

I have already taken advantage

of kindness I never deserved.

I leaned too much

on someone who only wanted to help.

And realizing that

breaks something inside me.

Because you should never have to carry

a mind like mine.

So I stop talking.

Not because the pain is gone.

But because it should not belong

to anyone else.

And still

the guilt remains.

Telling me

I am weak.

Telling me

I am making a big fuss

over problems

that stronger people

would simply endure.

Maybe my pain

is not as big as it feels.

Maybe I am the one

making it bigger.

Maybe I am just a man

who never learned

how to fight his own mind.

Maybe I really am

what I fear the most.

A loser

who could never become

the man he hoped to be.

And that thought

sits quietly beside me

every night.

So if I grow silent

if I stop sharing

if my words become fewer

please understand

it is not distance.

It is helplessness.

The helpless decision

of someone who knows

how dark his world can be

and refuses

to pull another soul into it.

Because I already hate

what it has done to me.

And after everything

after all the tears

after all the shame

after all the battles

I keep losing inside my own head

there is only one thing

left for me to say.

I am sorry.

If you love me

like the universe conspired in secret,

like our names were etched

into the first light of creation,

then listen closely

I will love you more.

If you are the cathedral built from scars,

I will be the hands

that trace every fracture

as if it were scripture.

If you are a sky

still learning to hold its thunder,

I will be the horizon

that never flinches at your storms.

You speak of stars burning for centuries

just to reach you.

I will become the darkness between them,

endless and patient,

so your light has somewhere

infinite to shine.

If you choose me

like dawn chooses the horizon,

I will choose you

like gravity chooses the earth,

not once,

not twice,

but constantly,

without question,

without escape.

If oceans resist,

I will be the tide that answers you.

If nights grow heavy,

I will be the quiet

that holds your breathing steady.

You want someone

who stands like a lighthouse.

I will be the shore itself,

unmoving,

waiting for every wave of you

without fear of erosion.

If you are the prayer

you did not know you were whispering,

I will be the faith

that keeps whispering back.

You want a love written in stars.

I will write ours in constellations

no sky has ever carried before.

I will love you

beyond the reach of telescopes,

beyond the language of astronomers,

beyond even the memory of light.

If fate steps aside for us,

I will step forward for you.

If the universe expanded

to make room for something beautiful,

I will expand too,

past ego,

past fear,

past every small version of myself

until loving you

is the largest thing I have ever become.

And if ever you doubt your worth,

I will love you in ways

so steady

so certain

that even your shadows

begin to believe in their own light.

You asked for a love

that existed before you met it.

I promise you this

If you love me

the way you wrote you would

I will love you

like stars envy the sky,

like time refuses to erase,

like forever is not long enough.