I disappeared
the way ink disappears into rain
not all at once
but slowly, until even the shape of my name
began to blur at the edges.
I left my words sleeping
between unfinished sentences,
left old thoughts folded inside the pages
like dried flowers no one had the heart to throw away,
and let the silence grow around me
until it almost felt like another skin.
There were days
when I was nothing more than a window
with the curtains drawn,
watching life move past in fragments
shadows crossing the floor,
seasons changing their clothes,
voices becoming distant rooms
I no longer knew how to enter.
I thought disappearing meant
I had become a missing piece
something the world had misplaced
and forgotten to look for.
But time has strange hands
it does not always repair what breaks,
sometimes it simply teaches broken things
how to hold the light differently.
So somewhere between
the person I was
and the person I was quietly becoming
I found a small door I had forgotten inside myself
opened it without knowing what waited beyond it
and there I was
not restored
not untouched
but still here.
Now I return
with pockets full of unsent words,
with memories that no longer ask to be explained
with a heart that has learned
that silence can be a place to grow
and not merely a place to disappear.
Maybe I didn't vanish at all.
Maybe I was beneath the surface,
like a river beneath winter ground,
still moving where nobody could see me.
And now somehow,
the ice has begun to loosen.
The words are moving again.
My name is visible again (Elara) .
And after everything,
I think there is something beautiful
about finding your way back to a place
without pretending you never left.
So here I am
a little unfamiliar even to myself,
carrying the quiet of where I've been
and the unfinished light of where I'm going.
No grand return.
No explanation.
Just me
placing one word after another
like small lamps along a road,
and trusting that this time,
I will recognize the way home♡
And if you feel like walking beside me
then come join me on this unfinished journey
I can't promise perfection
but I can promise that I'll give you
something honest to walk beside.
Maybe I won't disappoint you.
Maybe togetherwe'll see where these words lead♡.
#elara
the way ink disappears into rain
not all at once
but slowly, until even the shape of my name
began to blur at the edges.
I left my words sleeping
between unfinished sentences,
left old thoughts folded inside the pages
like dried flowers no one had the heart to throw away,
and let the silence grow around me
until it almost felt like another skin.
There were days
when I was nothing more than a window
with the curtains drawn,
watching life move past in fragments
shadows crossing the floor,
seasons changing their clothes,
voices becoming distant rooms
I no longer knew how to enter.
I thought disappearing meant
I had become a missing piece
something the world had misplaced
and forgotten to look for.
But time has strange hands
it does not always repair what breaks,
sometimes it simply teaches broken things
how to hold the light differently.
So somewhere between
the person I was
and the person I was quietly becoming
I found a small door I had forgotten inside myself
opened it without knowing what waited beyond it
and there I was
not restored
not untouched
but still here.
Now I return
with pockets full of unsent words,
with memories that no longer ask to be explained
with a heart that has learned
that silence can be a place to grow
and not merely a place to disappear.
Maybe I didn't vanish at all.
Maybe I was beneath the surface,
like a river beneath winter ground,
still moving where nobody could see me.
And now somehow,
the ice has begun to loosen.
The words are moving again.
My name is visible again (Elara) .
And after everything,
I think there is something beautiful
about finding your way back to a place
without pretending you never left.
So here I am
a little unfamiliar even to myself,
carrying the quiet of where I've been
and the unfinished light of where I'm going.
No grand return.
No explanation.
Just me
placing one word after another
like small lamps along a road,
and trusting that this time,
I will recognize the way home♡
And if you feel like walking beside me
then come join me on this unfinished journey
I can't promise perfection
but I can promise that I'll give you
something honest to walk beside.
Maybe I won't disappoint you.
Maybe togetherwe'll see where these words lead♡.
#elara
❤4🎉1
Someone may still remember you
as the person you were years ago,
while you have spent every day since
becoming someone they have never met.
Not everyone will update their memory of you.
You must learn to live
without asking the past for permission to change.
#elara
as the person you were years ago,
while you have spent every day since
becoming someone they have never met.
Not everyone will update their memory of you.
You must learn to live
without asking the past for permission to change.
#elara
❤3🎉1
We forgive the world for being cruel
yet punish ourselves for being human
Strange how we offer others the grace,
we spend our lives believing we don't deserve.
#elara
yet punish ourselves for being human
Strange how we offer others the grace,
we spend our lives believing we don't deserve.
#elara
❤2❤🔥2👍1
We teach children
to say thank you and sorry,
then become adults
who struggle to say either
when pride gets involved.
#elara
to say thank you and sorry,
then become adults
who struggle to say either
when pride gets involved.
#elara
❤2⚡1
#@Elara_writeesbot
You can send your message anytime in this bot and it will be delivered privately to the admin.
💬 Just type whatever you want to share thoughts, questions, feedback, anything.
Your message is safe here.
You’ll get a reply soon if needed. 😊
Vent what you hold in silence.
Share feelings, stories, fears, or nothing at all.
🔒 Your voice stays safe. Your thoughts remain yours.
Or you can share here also....
AnoMessBot.t.me?start=MP0kjqb
https://t.me/elara_writess
You can send your message anytime in this bot and it will be delivered privately to the admin.
💬 Just type whatever you want to share thoughts, questions, feedback, anything.
Your message is safe here.
You’ll get a reply soon if needed. 😊
Vent what you hold in silence.
Share feelings, stories, fears, or nothing at all.
🔒 Your voice stays safe. Your thoughts remain yours.
Or you can share here also....
AnoMessBot.t.me?start=MP0kjqb
https://t.me/elara_writess
❤2🍓1
The internet gave everyone a voice,
but somehow made listening harder.
We learned how to speak to strangers
before learning
how to listen to the people beside us.
#elara
but somehow made listening harder.
We learned how to speak to strangers
before learning
how to listen to the people beside us.
#elara
❤2🍓1
...Arrogance and pride...
I had them on the same plate.
I forgot Allah SWT doesn't like arrogant hearts,
yet I was arrogant in my reactions,
in the way I spoke to people,
in the way I thought
I could lose them and still be fine.
And I had pride in my academics too.
I thought being good at something
made me something more.
Then Allah SWT turned the plates.
And somehow
everything I was so sure of
stopped being mine.
My pride.My arrogance.My people.My academics.
The people I once thought
I could live without
became strangers.
The academics I once carried
like proof of my worth
became another thing
I couldn't hold onto.
And now I don't understand people
the way I used to.
Some nights
I don't even understand myself.
So I lie awake
crying over things
I once treated like they were beneath me.
And maybe that's what hurts most
I spent so long
looking down at what I had
that I never noticed
how high Allah SWT had lifted me.
I thought those people were mine.
I thought those achievements were mine.
I thought even the version of myself
who had all of it
was mine.
But none of it was.
And now
when I look at what is left of me,
I don't know whether I'm grieving
the people I lost
the academics I lost,
or the person I became
when I finally learned
I was never as powerful
as I thought I was.
I was only holding
what Allah SWT had allowed me to hold.
And perhaps the cruelest part
is that I had to lose it
to finally understand
it was never mine.
And
I was never the owner.
I was only the one
Allah SWT had trusted
with it for a while.
#elara
I had them on the same plate.
I forgot Allah SWT doesn't like arrogant hearts,
yet I was arrogant in my reactions,
in the way I spoke to people,
in the way I thought
I could lose them and still be fine.
And I had pride in my academics too.
I thought being good at something
made me something more.
Then Allah SWT turned the plates.
And somehow
everything I was so sure of
stopped being mine.
My pride.My arrogance.My people.My academics.
The people I once thought
I could live without
became strangers.
The academics I once carried
like proof of my worth
became another thing
I couldn't hold onto.
And now I don't understand people
the way I used to.
Some nights
I don't even understand myself.
So I lie awake
crying over things
I once treated like they were beneath me.
And maybe that's what hurts most
I spent so long
looking down at what I had
that I never noticed
how high Allah SWT had lifted me.
I thought those people were mine.
I thought those achievements were mine.
I thought even the version of myself
who had all of it
was mine.
But none of it was.
And now
when I look at what is left of me,
I don't know whether I'm grieving
the people I lost
the academics I lost,
or the person I became
when I finally learned
I was never as powerful
as I thought I was.
I was only holding
what Allah SWT had allowed me to hold.
And perhaps the cruelest part
is that I had to lose it
to finally understand
it was never mine.
And
I was never the owner.
I was only the one
Allah SWT had trusted
with it for a while.
#elara
❤🔥3⚡1
If you could see yourself through the eyes
of everyone who has ever loved you,
perhaps you'd understand why some people stayed
even when you couldn't find a reason
to be gentle with yourself.
#elara
of everyone who has ever loved you,
perhaps you'd understand why some people stayed
even when you couldn't find a reason
to be gentle with yourself.
#elara
❤2😱1❤🔥1
Some things grow beautifully in silence,
far from the eyes that seek to measure them.
Not everything meaningful needs an audience;
even roots do their greatest work underground.
#elara
far from the eyes that seek to measure them.
Not everything meaningful needs an audience;
even roots do their greatest work underground.
#elara
❤2🎉1😍1
Somewhere I Am Remembered🕸
Ep 1 ✍
I might not be beautiful in your POV,
but I'm beautiful in my parents' eyes
I'm beautiful in an author's words
the one who has written an entire book about me without ever touching a pen.
A book that exists only in his mind yet holds every little detail of me
that the world never cared to notice
He remembers my tiniest habits the ones I barely notice about myself.
How I burn my diary when it reaches its last page.
The little mole above my eye the mark beside my lips.
How I bite my nails when I'm overthinking
how I pick at the skin around my fingers when something bothers me
How I type entire paragraphs
but sometimes send just one word.
How I say it's okay when it really isn't
How I remember sentences people don't even remember saying
How I notice the smallest changes in everyone the slightest difference in their tone the little distance in their behaviour.
How I can tell when someone isn't themselves yet struggle to explain
when something inside me isn't right.
He knows how I keep little pieces of moments long after the moments are gone.
How I get attached to insignificant things how the smallest gestures stay with me
how I pretend not to care
about things I think about for hours.
He knows I can write paragraphs about my feelings but struggle to speak them aloud.
That sometimes I have a thousand things to say and still end up saying nothing.
He knows the little things
I never explain the habits I never notice the details I never think to mention.
And perhaps that's what makes his book different.
I have spent so much time
trying to make myself understood
explaining my silences finding words for feelings I can barely understand myself.
Yet somewhere there is an author
who has memorised me without asking me to explain a thing.
He knows me without the metaphors without the carefully constructed sentences
without the pretty words I use to make sense of myself.
Because here
I can edit my feelings hide my flaws between lines and make even my broken thoughts sound beautiful.
But in his mind I don't have to be beautifully written to be worth remembering.
He remembers the girl behind every sentence the habits behind every silence the little things I never thought anyone noticed.
And maybe that's a kind of beauty I never knew how to ask for.
Not being admired.
Not being wanted by everyone.
Not being the prettiest face in a room
Just being remembered in the smallest quietest ways.
So I might not be beautiful in your POV.
You might look at me and find nothing worth writing about.
But somewhere inside an author's mind there is an entire book about me.
No photographs. No perfect descriptions.No carefully chosen words trying to convince anyone
that I am worth knowing.
Just memories a thousand little details collected without me even realising.
And sometimes I wonder if I could read that book would I recognise myself?
Would I find the girl I've spent so long trying to understand in the little things he remembers?
Would I finally see what I have spent years looking for in other people's eyes?
And perhaps
the most beautiful thing about that book is that I never had to ask
for a place in it.
So perhaps I might not be beautiful in your eyes.
But somewhere in the quiet corners of an author's mind,
I exist beyond my face beyond my flaws beyond every version of myself. I've tried so hard to perfect.
And if the world ever forgets me
if my name fades from people's memories
if even my words are left unread
I hope that somewhere in that book he never wrote the little things remain.
Because maybe
I was never asking the world
to find me beautiful.
Maybe I only wanted to know
that I could exist in someone's mind without having to remind them that I exist.
And if I ever get to read that book I won't ask the author which chapter made me beautiful.
I'll ask him which page made him remember me.
And perhaps
if he turns to a page filled with the smallest things about me I'll finally understand.
I was never afraid of being an unfinished story.
I was afraid that nobody would notice I was there before the story ended.
#elara
Ep 1 ✍
I might not be beautiful in your POV,
but I'm beautiful in my parents' eyes
I'm beautiful in an author's words
the one who has written an entire book about me without ever touching a pen.
A book that exists only in his mind yet holds every little detail of me
that the world never cared to notice
He remembers my tiniest habits the ones I barely notice about myself.
How I burn my diary when it reaches its last page.
The little mole above my eye the mark beside my lips.
How I bite my nails when I'm overthinking
how I pick at the skin around my fingers when something bothers me
How I type entire paragraphs
but sometimes send just one word.
How I say it's okay when it really isn't
How I remember sentences people don't even remember saying
How I notice the smallest changes in everyone the slightest difference in their tone the little distance in their behaviour.
How I can tell when someone isn't themselves yet struggle to explain
when something inside me isn't right.
He knows how I keep little pieces of moments long after the moments are gone.
How I get attached to insignificant things how the smallest gestures stay with me
how I pretend not to care
about things I think about for hours.
He knows I can write paragraphs about my feelings but struggle to speak them aloud.
That sometimes I have a thousand things to say and still end up saying nothing.
He knows the little things
I never explain the habits I never notice the details I never think to mention.
And perhaps that's what makes his book different.
I have spent so much time
trying to make myself understood
explaining my silences finding words for feelings I can barely understand myself.
Yet somewhere there is an author
who has memorised me without asking me to explain a thing.
He knows me without the metaphors without the carefully constructed sentences
without the pretty words I use to make sense of myself.
Because here
I can edit my feelings hide my flaws between lines and make even my broken thoughts sound beautiful.
But in his mind I don't have to be beautifully written to be worth remembering.
He remembers the girl behind every sentence the habits behind every silence the little things I never thought anyone noticed.
And maybe that's a kind of beauty I never knew how to ask for.
Not being admired.
Not being wanted by everyone.
Not being the prettiest face in a room
Just being remembered in the smallest quietest ways.
So I might not be beautiful in your POV.
You might look at me and find nothing worth writing about.
But somewhere inside an author's mind there is an entire book about me.
No photographs. No perfect descriptions.No carefully chosen words trying to convince anyone
that I am worth knowing.
Just memories a thousand little details collected without me even realising.
And sometimes I wonder if I could read that book would I recognise myself?
Would I find the girl I've spent so long trying to understand in the little things he remembers?
Would I finally see what I have spent years looking for in other people's eyes?
And perhaps
the most beautiful thing about that book is that I never had to ask
for a place in it.
So perhaps I might not be beautiful in your eyes.
But somewhere in the quiet corners of an author's mind,
I exist beyond my face beyond my flaws beyond every version of myself. I've tried so hard to perfect.
And if the world ever forgets me
if my name fades from people's memories
if even my words are left unread
I hope that somewhere in that book he never wrote the little things remain.
Because maybe
I was never asking the world
to find me beautiful.
Maybe I only wanted to know
that I could exist in someone's mind without having to remind them that I exist.
And if I ever get to read that book I won't ask the author which chapter made me beautiful.
I'll ask him which page made him remember me.
And perhaps
if he turns to a page filled with the smallest things about me I'll finally understand.
I was never afraid of being an unfinished story.
I was afraid that nobody would notice I was there before the story ended.
#elara
❤🔥4👍2
A person can know everything about you and still not know you. Knowing someone's history is not the same as understanding what it did to them.
#elara
#elara
🔥3🤗2
Ep 2 ✍
Haha ok today I'm going to tell u a little story
I was in 12th nd it was result day. There was this group nd he was the admin.Tht's literally the only reason I texted him I said Bro this website isn't working. Can uh check? He checked replied nd that was it No feelings no expectations.
We started talking nd I always called him bro.There was nothing romantic from my side initially. But one day out of nowhere he asked Relationship mein ayein? Obviously I said NO but then I thought good looking hei ky hi hoga So I accepted Honestly I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
We talked got closer nd slowly I became attached I took our relationship seriously trusted him nd genuinely believed in what we had. Maybe I wasn't perfect but my feelings were real.Then came the part tht still makes me say WTH. One day he told me he'd never been in a relationship with me. And bro he was dating someone else for 3 Yrs.But bro he was sharing phone screen with me tb kha tei We used to talk on calls until 1 AM nd suddenly he was telling me tht our relationship had never existed nd that it was all a joke.Then what was I supposed to call those conversations?What was I supposed to do with the feelings I'd developed?You can't spend so much time being part of someone's life nd then pretend u were never there.
I spent an entire year emotionally invested in someone who could reduce everything to a joke. Eventually I tried moving on convincing myself that I needed to stop looking for answers from someone who'd given me nothing but confusion.But months later he came back and said I really love u kuch nhi hoga nd uh can call me silly here but Maybe I wanted to believe he'd changed Maybe I thought he'd finally understood his mistakes Or maybe I was still holding on to the person I'd once believed he was So I gave him another chance..Yes I know ur thoughts.
Nd today I found out he's STILL in a relationship.
I'm crying not coz I lost the perfect person but coz I'm wondering why I kept giving chances to someone who kept giving me reasons to walk away i think about tht girl who texted him on result day simply asking the admin to check her result. She had no idea that one random conversation would turn into a year of attachment disappointment nd lessons she never asked to learn if I could talk to that girl I wouldn't tell her never to trust anyone I'd tell her tht not everyone who enters her life knows how to handle the place she gives them in it u can be genuine with someone who isn't genuine with u
U can mean every word u say to someone who doesn't mean theirs. Sometimes we give people another chance not because they've proved they've changed but because we're still hoping they'll become the person we once believed they were nd there's a difference.
Maybe my mistake wasn't loving him maybe it was believing that if I loved him enough gave him enough chances nd understood him enough things would eventually work out.But love shouldn't require u to keep questioning what's real i can't keep blaming myself for trusting someone when I genuinely wanted to believe in them.
I'm hurt disappointed and still trying to process everything I know someone wasn't right for me yet I can still feel sad about the time hope nd emotions I invested in them. Both things can be true. I don't want to regret caring about someone I just want to learn how to care without forgetting myself i didn't deserve confusion disguised as love and I didn't deserve to have my feelings treated like a joke.
Maybe one day I'll look back and laugh about how a conversation that started with Bro this website isn't working turned into all of this. But today isn't that day.Today I'm just trying to make peace with something I genuinely believed in.
I can regret the chances I gave without regretting the heart I gave them with i know my intentions were genuine nd just because someone else didn't value the connection the same way doesn't make my experience meaningless. Maybe I lost a year hoping someone would choose honesty but I don't have to lose any more time punishing myself for it.
#elara
Haha ok today I'm going to tell u a little story
I was in 12th nd it was result day. There was this group nd he was the admin.Tht's literally the only reason I texted him I said Bro this website isn't working. Can uh check? He checked replied nd that was it No feelings no expectations.
We started talking nd I always called him bro.There was nothing romantic from my side initially. But one day out of nowhere he asked Relationship mein ayein? Obviously I said NO but then I thought good looking hei ky hi hoga So I accepted Honestly I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
We talked got closer nd slowly I became attached I took our relationship seriously trusted him nd genuinely believed in what we had. Maybe I wasn't perfect but my feelings were real.Then came the part tht still makes me say WTH. One day he told me he'd never been in a relationship with me. And bro he was dating someone else for 3 Yrs.But bro he was sharing phone screen with me tb kha tei We used to talk on calls until 1 AM nd suddenly he was telling me tht our relationship had never existed nd that it was all a joke.Then what was I supposed to call those conversations?What was I supposed to do with the feelings I'd developed?You can't spend so much time being part of someone's life nd then pretend u were never there.
I spent an entire year emotionally invested in someone who could reduce everything to a joke. Eventually I tried moving on convincing myself that I needed to stop looking for answers from someone who'd given me nothing but confusion.But months later he came back and said I really love u kuch nhi hoga nd uh can call me silly here but Maybe I wanted to believe he'd changed Maybe I thought he'd finally understood his mistakes Or maybe I was still holding on to the person I'd once believed he was So I gave him another chance..Yes I know ur thoughts.
Nd today I found out he's STILL in a relationship.
I'm crying not coz I lost the perfect person but coz I'm wondering why I kept giving chances to someone who kept giving me reasons to walk away i think about tht girl who texted him on result day simply asking the admin to check her result. She had no idea that one random conversation would turn into a year of attachment disappointment nd lessons she never asked to learn if I could talk to that girl I wouldn't tell her never to trust anyone I'd tell her tht not everyone who enters her life knows how to handle the place she gives them in it u can be genuine with someone who isn't genuine with u
U can mean every word u say to someone who doesn't mean theirs. Sometimes we give people another chance not because they've proved they've changed but because we're still hoping they'll become the person we once believed they were nd there's a difference.
Maybe my mistake wasn't loving him maybe it was believing that if I loved him enough gave him enough chances nd understood him enough things would eventually work out.But love shouldn't require u to keep questioning what's real i can't keep blaming myself for trusting someone when I genuinely wanted to believe in them.
I'm hurt disappointed and still trying to process everything I know someone wasn't right for me yet I can still feel sad about the time hope nd emotions I invested in them. Both things can be true. I don't want to regret caring about someone I just want to learn how to care without forgetting myself i didn't deserve confusion disguised as love and I didn't deserve to have my feelings treated like a joke.
Maybe one day I'll look back and laugh about how a conversation that started with Bro this website isn't working turned into all of this. But today isn't that day.Today I'm just trying to make peace with something I genuinely believed in.
I can regret the chances I gave without regretting the heart I gave them with i know my intentions were genuine nd just because someone else didn't value the connection the same way doesn't make my experience meaningless. Maybe I lost a year hoping someone would choose honesty but I don't have to lose any more time punishing myself for it.
#elara
❤3👍2
One day you will realize
that not everything needs to be fixed.
Some things only need to be accepted
and some questions
are meant to remain unanswered.
#elara
that not everything needs to be fixed.
Some things only need to be accepted
and some questions
are meant to remain unanswered.
#elara
💯3❤1👏1
So in ep 3 you got to know about my love life.
Yes I cried I got stuck between what I felt and what I knew. There were things my heart wasn't ready to accept even when my mind had already understood them. But life doesn't stop just because something inside you does. I went to college got busy with little things met people and slowly the days stopped revolving around what had happened.
I didn't forget him. I think I just stopped making him the centre of everything I felt.
And yes I made bad duas for him. I was hurt and at that time I thought perhaps he deserved to feel the kind of pain he had left me with. He stayed but he cheated. And I couldn't understand how someone could remain beside you while doing something that could change the way you saw them forever.
But lately I've been thinking about forgiveness.
Not the kind where you convince yourself that nothing happened. Not the kind where you suddenly see the person differently or find excuses for their choices. I mean the kind where you finally stop arguing with the past.
Because what happened has happened. No amount of anger can make it unhappen. No amount of wishing him pain can return the person I was before I knew what I know now.
And maybe that's something I've had to learn there is a difference between wanting someone to understand your pain and needing them to suffer for it.
For a while I thought letting go meant accepting defeat. As if forgiving him would somehow make what he did less wrong, or make my pain less valid. But why should my ability to find peace depend on whether he ever understands what he did?
He may never see things the way I do. He may never understand what his choices cost me. And perhaps I'll never receive the explanation that would make everything make sense.
I'm beginning to realise that I don't need to spend the rest of my life waiting for understanding from the very person whose actions left me confused.
I can leave some questions unanswered. I can accept that someone I cared for was capable of hurting me. Both things can be true: what I felt was real and what he did was wrong.
So, yes, I want to forgive him. Not to make myself a bigger person, not to prove that I've healed, and not because I think he deserves to return to my life.
I want to forgive him because I don't want pain to become a reason for me to wish pain upon someone else. I don't want to keep feeding an anger that has nowhere meaningful to take me.
Maybe I'll ask Allah to forgive me for the things I said out of hurt and I'll leave his actions to Allah, too. I don't have to decide what he deserves. I only have to be honest about what happened and careful about what I allow back into my life.
And perhaps forgiveness isn't always a feeling. Sometimes, it's a decision you make before your heart has fully caught up with it.
I might still remember. I might still have questions. But remembering doesn't mean I have to return to the hurt every time.
I cannot change what he chose to do but I can choose what I carry forward from it.
I don't want revenge. I don't want to prove that I'm happier without him. I don't even want my healing to become another way of keeping him relevant in my life.
I simply want to reach a point where his name is just a name, the memories are just memories, and the past no longer asks anything of me.
Maybe that's enough.
Maybe I don't need to turn this experience into a beautiful lesson or pretend it made me stronger. Maybe something painful can simply be painful, and I can still grow beyond it.
I'm not forgiving him because he didn't hurt me.
I'm forgiving him because he did, and I don't want that hurt to keep deciding who I am.
Some things cannot be made right. They can only be left behind, without denying that they happened.
#elara
Yes I cried I got stuck between what I felt and what I knew. There were things my heart wasn't ready to accept even when my mind had already understood them. But life doesn't stop just because something inside you does. I went to college got busy with little things met people and slowly the days stopped revolving around what had happened.
I didn't forget him. I think I just stopped making him the centre of everything I felt.
And yes I made bad duas for him. I was hurt and at that time I thought perhaps he deserved to feel the kind of pain he had left me with. He stayed but he cheated. And I couldn't understand how someone could remain beside you while doing something that could change the way you saw them forever.
But lately I've been thinking about forgiveness.
Not the kind where you convince yourself that nothing happened. Not the kind where you suddenly see the person differently or find excuses for their choices. I mean the kind where you finally stop arguing with the past.
Because what happened has happened. No amount of anger can make it unhappen. No amount of wishing him pain can return the person I was before I knew what I know now.
And maybe that's something I've had to learn there is a difference between wanting someone to understand your pain and needing them to suffer for it.
For a while I thought letting go meant accepting defeat. As if forgiving him would somehow make what he did less wrong, or make my pain less valid. But why should my ability to find peace depend on whether he ever understands what he did?
He may never see things the way I do. He may never understand what his choices cost me. And perhaps I'll never receive the explanation that would make everything make sense.
I'm beginning to realise that I don't need to spend the rest of my life waiting for understanding from the very person whose actions left me confused.
I can leave some questions unanswered. I can accept that someone I cared for was capable of hurting me. Both things can be true: what I felt was real and what he did was wrong.
So, yes, I want to forgive him. Not to make myself a bigger person, not to prove that I've healed, and not because I think he deserves to return to my life.
I want to forgive him because I don't want pain to become a reason for me to wish pain upon someone else. I don't want to keep feeding an anger that has nowhere meaningful to take me.
Maybe I'll ask Allah to forgive me for the things I said out of hurt and I'll leave his actions to Allah, too. I don't have to decide what he deserves. I only have to be honest about what happened and careful about what I allow back into my life.
And perhaps forgiveness isn't always a feeling. Sometimes, it's a decision you make before your heart has fully caught up with it.
I might still remember. I might still have questions. But remembering doesn't mean I have to return to the hurt every time.
I cannot change what he chose to do but I can choose what I carry forward from it.
I don't want revenge. I don't want to prove that I'm happier without him. I don't even want my healing to become another way of keeping him relevant in my life.
I simply want to reach a point where his name is just a name, the memories are just memories, and the past no longer asks anything of me.
Maybe that's enough.
Maybe I don't need to turn this experience into a beautiful lesson or pretend it made me stronger. Maybe something painful can simply be painful, and I can still grow beyond it.
I'm not forgiving him because he didn't hurt me.
I'm forgiving him because he did, and I don't want that hurt to keep deciding who I am.
Some things cannot be made right. They can only be left behind, without denying that they happened.
#elara
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People often tell don't you feel ashamed of the things you write the things I’ve said or the parts of myself that life has failed to break.
But I think they misunderstand something.
I don’t write because I have nothing to hide. I write because I’m learning not to be ashamed of the parts of me that aren’t perfect. The words I regret the thoughts I struggle to explain the flaws I haven’t outgrown, and the versions of myself I’m still trying to understand.
But don’t mistake my honesty for complete transparency.
You know the versions of me I allow you to know. You read the words I choose to share. You see the imperfections I’m willing to admit not every contradiction I carry not every truth I keep to myself and not every version of me that exists beyond these words.
I am not the sum of everything I reveal, nor am I defined by everything I conceal.
I am imperfect in ways you may recognize and in ways you may never understand. And I don’t owe the world a complete explanation of who I am just to prove that I accept myself.
Perhaps self acceptance isn’t about exposing every flaw or confessing every truth. Perhaps it’s about knowing that even the parts of ourselves we struggle to accept still belong to us.
You may know my words my wounds my thoughts, and my mistakes. But you will never know every version of me and that doesn’t make any of those versions less real.
#elara
But I think they misunderstand something.
I don’t write because I have nothing to hide. I write because I’m learning not to be ashamed of the parts of me that aren’t perfect. The words I regret the thoughts I struggle to explain the flaws I haven’t outgrown, and the versions of myself I’m still trying to understand.
But don’t mistake my honesty for complete transparency.
You know the versions of me I allow you to know. You read the words I choose to share. You see the imperfections I’m willing to admit not every contradiction I carry not every truth I keep to myself and not every version of me that exists beyond these words.
I am not the sum of everything I reveal, nor am I defined by everything I conceal.
I am imperfect in ways you may recognize and in ways you may never understand. And I don’t owe the world a complete explanation of who I am just to prove that I accept myself.
Perhaps self acceptance isn’t about exposing every flaw or confessing every truth. Perhaps it’s about knowing that even the parts of ourselves we struggle to accept still belong to us.
You may know my words my wounds my thoughts, and my mistakes. But you will never know every version of me and that doesn’t make any of those versions less real.
#elara
❤3😱1🍓1
A kind person can have boundaries.
A forgiving person can say no.
A loving person can walk away.
None of these things
make their heart smaller.
#elara
A forgiving person can say no.
A loving person can walk away.
None of these things
make their heart smaller.
#elara
❤2🎉1🤗1
So yeah taking a break again 🤡✋🏻
Scheduled posts might still get uploaded automatically so if you see a post just know it’s my unpaid intern doing overtime😭
And why am I taking a break? Guys you don’t follow my channel ( elara)😒
HAHAHAHA as if anyone was following me in the first place 😭 I'm really saying taking a break like the world would notice my absence🤡
Anyway got some work to do. Not that my presence here was doing any groundbreaking work either💀✌🏻
#elara
Scheduled posts might still get uploaded automatically so if you see a post just know it’s my unpaid intern doing overtime😭
And why am I taking a break? Guys you don’t follow my channel ( elara)😒
HAHAHAHA as if anyone was following me in the first place 😭 I'm really saying taking a break like the world would notice my absence🤡
Anyway got some work to do. Not that my presence here was doing any groundbreaking work either💀✌🏻
#elara
😁2❤1👍1👎1
You can win an argument and lose the person you were trying to convince.
Sometimes being right has a very expensive price.
#elara
Sometimes being right has a very expensive price.
#elara
❤🔥2🔥1