Nega ko‘zlar birinchi sotib qo‘yadi, odamning o‘zi tan olmasidan oldin?

Bilasizmi nima… people think they can hide everything.
O‘z hissiyotlarini ham, qo‘rquvini ham, kimnidir qanchalik yoqtirishini ham. Ular o‘ylashadi: "Agar tilimni tiysam, nobody will notice."

Lekin tanamizdagi bitta joy bor — the eyes.
Ko‘zlar odamga sotqinlik qilishni juda yaxshi biladi. Hech qachon vaqtni behuda o‘tkazmaydi.

Kimnidir yaxshigina yoqtirib qolsa — ular yalt etib yonib ketadi. Nafratlansa — muzdek tortadi. Qo‘rqsa — titraydi. Uyalsa — yashirinishga urinishadi, lekin baribir fosh bo‘ladi. Yolg‘on gapirsa..?
Ha, til seni qutqarib qolishi mumkin. Words can twist, they can hide, they can pretend.
Lekin ko‘zlar…they never play along. Ular yurak bilan yashirincha til biriktirgan sotqinlar.

Ular odamning ichidagi shovqinni oshkor qilib yuboradi: nimani istayotganingni, kimdan qochayotganingni, kimdan ehtiyot bo‘layotganingni.
Sometimes even before you realize it yourself.

Shuning uchun hammasi ko‘zdan boshlanadi — the truth, the fear, the love, the chaos.
Ko‘zlaringizga qarang…ular siz aytishni istamagan narsalarning allaqachon gapirib bo‘lgan.

Koʻzlaring seni osongina sotib keta oladi...

Hozir ingliz tili kursga prezentatsiya tayyorlayotganimda bir narsa esimga tushdi va endi shu narsani bittada yozib qoʻymoqchiman. Koʻzlar mavzusi boʻyicha: agarda siz Jojo Moyesning "Me before you" asarini oʻqigan boʻlsangiz unda ko‘zlar orqali "so‘zlashish" sahnalari bor. Va aynan shu kitobni filmida ham bu yaqqol ochib berilgan. Jane Austenni "Pride and prejudice" asarida ham shu, lekin ularda bu koʻp qoʻllanilmagandi.

Mendagi bir g‘alati odatlardan biri bor…kimdir menga tikilib qolsa, I don’t look away.
Ba’zida ataylab, bilib turib, o‘sha nigohga qarshi turaman.
Ko‘zimni qimirlatmay, qochmay, yashirmay — just holding it…as if I’m testing something invisible between us.

Shunda ikkita holat bo‘ladi:
yoki o‘sha odam menga ahmoqona tarzda qarab qotib qoladi, go‘yo: "nima bo‘lyapti o‘zi?" degan savol bilan.
Yoki uyalib, ko‘zlarini tezda boshqa tomonga olib qochadi — as if my gaze exposed something they weren’t ready to admit.

Endi men buni qanday tushunay? 😅😂
Bu kichkina o‘yinmi, yoki ko‘zlarim odamlarning ichki haqiqatini silkitadimi — bilmayman.
Lekin bilganim bitta narsa:
some people can handle eye contact…and some people crumble the moment your eyes touch theirs.

Maybe ko‘zlar haqiqatan ham kichkina sinovdir — kimning ruhida qanday ovoz yashirinib yotganini tekshiradigan test.
Agar kimdir qarashni ushlab tursa — demak unda kuch bor.
Agar qochsa — demak yuragi nimadandir cho‘chiydi.

Baribir, I kinda enjoy it…chunki ko‘zlar hech qachon yolg‘on gapirmaydi, odamlar esa gapirishi mumkin.

Didn’t like the growing up part…but I love who I became.

Menga ulg‘ayish unchalik yoqmadi…rostini aytsam, childhooddan qochib, "tezroq katta bo‘lsam" deb orzu qilganimni endi tushunmayapman. Back then, I thought adulthood was freedom.
Now I know… freedom hamisha yengil bo‘lmaydi.

Ulg‘ayish menga yoqmadi — bu haqiqat. Bills, expectations, people changing, you changing…it all feels a bit heavier than I imagined.

Lekin…ulg'aygan men menga yoqdi. The version of me that survived things, the me that learned, fell, stood up again, that me…I’m proud of.

Maybe shuning uchundir —
bir paytlar orzu qilgan kattaligimga o‘xshamasam ham, o‘zimning bugungi shaklim…I actually like it.

Balki ulg‘ayishning og‘riqlari bizni sindirish uchun emas, we grow into someone we were meant to become. Balki… ulg‘ayishning o‘zi chiroyli emasdir, lekin ulg‘ayib chiqqan odam — ha, beautiful in a broken, real way.

Balki…men endi nihoyat o‘zimni ko‘ra boshlayotgandirman.

Social media — vitrinalar. Ammo qalbimizning orqa xonasi… faqat tanlangan bir insonga

Nega odam faqat social mediaga eng yaxshi xotiralarini qo‘yadi? Because nobody really wants to share their bruises with the world. Yaxshi lahzalar — bu bizning vitrinalarimiz. Yomonlari esa...qalbimizning orqa xonasida yashaydi.

Ba’zan men ham shunday qilaman. Og‘ir kunlarimni, yomon xotiralarimni, gʻalati o'ylarimni — faqat juda yaqin bo‘lgan odamlarimgagina aytaman. Because not everyone deserves front-row access to your soul.

Mening asl qandayligimni...faqat u biladi. Ha, u meni to‘liq biladi. Yaxshi tarafimni ham, yomon tarafimni ham, men yashirmoqchi bo‘lgan joylarimni ham.

Hatto men qilmoqchi bo‘lgan ishlarimni o‘zim aytmasam ham bilib olishiga hayron bo‘laman. Like he reads the silence between my words.

Lekin hozir biz gaplashmayapmiz. Hayot yo‘llarimiz boshqa-boshqa burilishlarga burilib ketgan. Ammo qaysi payt yozsam ham…we pick up exactly where we left off. Go‘yo vaqt o‘tmagan, go‘yo hech nima o‘zgarmagan.

Menimcha…shu — haqiqiy soulmatelik. Not drama, not intensity…just a quiet understanding that survives distance, survives silence, survives everything.

Soulmate bu faqat kimnidir sevish emas — bu oʻsha kimdir seni hech qanday filterlarsiz qabul qilishi. Aynan oʻsha kimdir seni eshitadi, hatto sen gapirmagan joylaringni ham. Oʻsha kimdir bilan vaqt orani buzmaydi, masofa sovitmaydi.

Balki shuning uchun odam yomon xotiralarini yashiradi — hamma ham ko‘tara olmaydi. But your soulmate…he carries it gently, as if your pain is something sacred.

Fast life, fast decisions… but deep feelings. That’s Gen Z.

Fast life, fast decisions… but deep feelings.
Ha, biz shunaqamiz — Gen Z. Tashqaridan qaraganda shoshqaloqdek ko‘rinamiz, dangasa, hech narsaga qiziqmaydigandek.

But inside?
Biz juda chuqurmiz. We feel everything too much, sometimes more than we should.

Hammasini tez qilamiz — tez qaror, tez action, tez natija. Lekin ruhimiz…bu tez bitmaydi. Tez sovumaydi. Tez unutmaydi.

Shuning uchun biz keraksiz narsaga yuragimizni bermaymiz, keraksiz odamga vaqt sarflamaymiz, no-vibe joyda qolmaymiz. Biz energiyani his qilamiz — good yoki bad. Va shu bo‘yicha yo‘l tanlaymiz.

They think we’re lazy. Lekin aslida biz faqat intuitively efficient bo‘lishni o‘rgandik. We protect our energy, we protect our peace.

Bizning tezligimiz — yuzada.
Bizning sekinligimiz — ichkarida. That’s why we look cold outside but warm inside.

Fast life…deep soul. Zoomerlik — mana shu.

Bir umr bir odam bilan qolish emas muammo… bir xil qolib ketish muammo.

Bir insonga ko‘ngli berib, u bilan bir umr yashash…no, no, hech qachon. Bu men uchun emas. Men bir xillikni yomon ko‘raman.

Men uchun munosabat — qamoq emas, u growth, u movement, u expansion. Agar ikkimiz bir-birimizga qarab qolib ketadigan bo‘lsak — that’s boring. But if we look in the same direction…that’s powerful.

Qachonki life partneringiz bilan maqsadlaringiz bir xil bo‘lsa, hayot zerikarli bo‘lmaydi. Aksincha…hayot yanada qiziq, yanada spicy, yanada unpredictable bo‘ladi.

I want a partner, not a routine. Kimdir yonimda turib:"Keling, yana o‘saylik, yana boraylik, yana sinab ko‘raylik," deb tursa — mana shu men uchun relationship.

I don’t want forever with someone who stays the same. I want forever with someone who evolves with me.

Bir umr bir odam bilan yashash? Ha, balki. Lekin bir umr o‘sha odamning yangi versiyalari bilan yashash — that’s the real dream.

Private life? Yo‘q, bu boshqa narsa… bu ‘only-for-my-heart’ moments.

O‘ylab qarasam… kuzda xotiralar boshqacha uyg‘onadi. Havo tinch, yurak biroz shovqin, bosh esa o‘tmishni bir-bir varaqlay boshlaydi. Kuzning shunaqa odati bor — u seni o‘zingga qaytaradi.

Lekin yana bir narsa bor, shu boya video qilayotganimda esimga tushib qoldi…meni eng yaqin odamimning men bilan birga tushgan bitta ham videosi yo‘q. Shu paytgacha ham yo‘q. Qanaqasiga ?!

Sometimes I ask myself…bu qizg‘onchlikmi yoki men o‘sha lahzalarni hech kim bilan bo‘lisha olmaydigan darajada qadrli deb bilganimdanmi?

Maybe men shunchaki ayrim odamlarni social media uchun emas, faqat yuragimning ichki, yashirin papkasi uchun saqlayman. Hech kim bilmaydigan, hech kim ko‘rmaydigan, faqat his qilinadigan joyga.

Balki men uni dunyoning nigohlaridan himoya qilgandirman. Balki bizning lahzalar kameraga sig‘maydigan darajada real bo‘lgandir. Unfiltered and unshared.

Chunki ba’zi odamlar…
faqat bizning ichki olamimizga tegishli bo‘ladi. Va ba’zi xotiralar — post uchun emas. They are meant to be kept, not shown.

That’s why…my ‘private life’ is not private at all — it’s just sacred.

Nega hammasi bunchalik chalkash ?

Esizdami, shu gapni yozganim, xoʻsh endi buni unuting. Ha, odamlar “arzisa qilaver” deydi, lekin men kechasi bilan uyqusiz yurgan bir nechta kunlarning oxirida faqat bitta narsani tushundim: hech narsa sog‘ligingdan qadrli emas ekan.

Bugun ertalab o‘zimni ko‘rib cho‘chib ketdim — yuzim charchoqdan mendan alam oldi.
Lanjlik, tana og‘rig‘i, ko‘zlarim achishib og‘irlashgan… kun bo‘yi yo taksida, yo metroda, yo divanda uxlab yurdim. Tanam “bas” dedi.

Shunda tushundim: me’yor — bu shunchaki chiroyli so‘z emas, bu hayotni saqlab turadigan balans.

Shuning uchun men o‘zimga bugun shuni aytdim: "Ish kutadi. Rejalar kutadi. Lekin men o‘zimni kutdirmayman. Uyga borib uxlayman".

Hech bir g‘oya, hech bir loyiha, hech bir topshiriq — sening sog‘ligingdan muhim emas.

(Ertaga toʻy, yaxshilab dam olish shart)

Yaxshi gap — shunchaki yaxshi gap!

Why do I always run?
Probably because I can smell nonsense from miles away.
I choose silence. Because silence never runs to friends saying, “She likes me, did you see that?”
I am loyal to the person I haven’t met yet. The one who doesn’t exist in real life. Yes. A man that exists only in theory,
but somehow has better manners than half the population.
I notice immediately when someone tries to get close. Hunger in their eyes. Rush in their hearts. And in their minds…well, nothing much.
These days, one kind sentence is enough — boom. A whole love story is already written.
“She spoke nicely to me.”
Eww..that’s not love, idiot.
That’s basic human decency. Learn the difference.
Love is a matter of the heart.
Respect is a matter of upbringing. And apparently, upbringing is out of stock these days.
I never want anyone to get attached to me. Especially not because I was polite. Politeness isn't a proposal, idiot. It’s just… being human!
I hate when people get used to my kindness. Because I’m not consistent. I’m not a mood —
I’m an entire weather system.
I hate sameness. Routine kills mystery. And mystery is the only thing keeping me interesting.
I have only one person.
My one safe place in the chaos. My boy bestie. He understands my silence and my sharp edges. He doesn’t demand love from me. He doesn’t confuse closeness with ownership. Rare species. Endangered, probably.

That’s why I run.
Not because I’m cold.
But because I’m selective.
And if someone doesn’t understand that — well… that’s a them problem.

Chaos is quiet when you learn to smile.

Ba’zan men o‘zimga haddan ortiq obsessed bo‘lib ketaman. Not in a narcissistic way — more like someone staring too long into a mirror and realizing the reflection is staring back.
Men bir xil inson emasman. I change faster than the weather, undan ham tezroq —
like skies that can’t decide whether to burn or rain.
Ichimda chaos yashaydi. Unspoken storms. Broken constellations of thoughts colliding at 3 a.m. And tashqarida — sokin tabassum. Soft. Polite. Almost convincing.
These two never agree. Ichimdagi shovqin va tashqi jimlik doim qarama-qarshi yo‘nalishda yuradi. Like two strangers sharing the same body, pretending not to notice each other. Ba’zan men jimman, not because I have nothing to say, but because words feel too small for what my heart is carrying.
Men o‘zimni tushunishga harakat qilaman. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I just sit with the confusion and let it breathe.
Mening ichimda romantika bor,
lekin u shovqinli emas. It’s quiet, dangerous, like a candle burning in a dark room —
beautiful, but capable of burning everything if touched the wrong way.
Men o‘zimdan qochmayman. I circle around myself, again and again, trying to understand why I feel too much and show too little.
And maybe that’s who I am. A calm smile guarding a restless soul. A soft voice hiding sharp truths. A mystery I’m still learning to live with. Sometimes I read myself back and think — hmm…maybe chaos isn’t my flaw. Maybe it’s my depth.

You don’t fail.
You disappear before the beginning.

Avval boshlang. Keyin o‘rganing. Order matters — but you flipped it in your head. Siz nimani boshlamoqchi bo‘lsangiz ham — til bo‘ladimi, ustozlikmi, dream projectmi — avval ichingizda uni yo‘q qilasiz:
“I can’t.”
“I’m not ready.”
“It’s not for me.”
Hali birinchi qadamni tashlamasdan turib, o‘zingizga hukm chiqarib bo‘lgansiz.
Bu qiziq. You haven’t failed — you just imagined the failure too well. Miya trailer ko‘rsatadi: uyat, yiqilish, boshqalar kulishi. Yurak esa sukutda turadi, chunki u hali ish boshlanmaganini biladi. Siz sabablar yig‘asiz. Very aesthetic excuses. Very logical fears. Ammo haqiqat shunaqa: siz qo‘rqmaysiz boshlashdan, siz qo‘rqasiz — kim bo‘lib qolishingizdan. Chunki agar boshlasangiz, end excuse. End comfort. End old version.
Va bu yerda choice bor: yo soyada qolish, yo titrab turgan yurak bilan oldinga yurish. Boshlash — bu mukammallik emas.Boshlash — bu shunchaki ha deyish. Bir marta. Past ovozda. O‘zingizga...
Avval qadam.
Keyin bilim.
Keyin kuch.
Keyin — siz o‘ylagandan ham boshqa odam.
And one day you’ll realize: siz qila olmasligingizni isbotlash uchun emas, o‘zingizni tanish uchun boshlagansiz...

Distance didn’t change my feelings.
It just proved they were real.

Men bir insonni anchadan beri yaxshi ko‘raman. Oddiy “yoqadi” emas — har safar unga qaraganimda, go‘yo yuragim reload bo‘ladi. Again. And again.
U mening idealim. Perfect emas — haqiqiy. Uni uchratganimga deyarli 6 yil bo‘ldi. Oshiq boʻlganimga esa 3 yil. Time passed, seasons changed, people came and left — but his place stayed untouched.
Bugun uni yana ko‘rdim. And just like that — I fell again. No drama. No resistance. Just that quiet moment when the heart says: “Yep. Still you.”
U hozir uzoqda. Physically. Lekin u menga yaqin bo‘lishni o‘rgatgan. Sukut bilan. Masofa bilan. Presence without possession.
U menga ko‘p narsani o‘rgatdi. Bilmasdan. O‘zi sezmasdan. Qanday kuchli bo‘lishni, qanday sabr qilishni, qanday kimnidir yuragingda olib yurib ham o‘zingni yo‘qotmaslikni.
U yolg‘iz emas. U bilan birga hayotimda yana 6 inson bor. Men ularning barchasini yaxshi ko‘raman. Each one shaped me. Each one left a mark.
Lekin ularning ichida ikki nafari bor — ularga bo‘lgan mehrim boshqacha. Quiet. Deep. Untouchable.
Nima bo‘lsa ham, qayerda bo‘lishmasin..I wish them health, peace, and light.
Men esa…men yo‘ldaman. I’m coming. Oz qoldi...

Men ba'zan uni sogʻinaman...

Hammasi yaxshi ketayotgan bir paytda bir narsa boʻladi va hammasi tamom. Men odamlarni yomon koʻraman, ammo oʻz insonlarimni emas. Men bir xil emasman, va hech qachon bunday boʻlmayman. Odamlar meni oʻldirishdi, va hali ham shu missiyalarini to'laqonli bitkazish uchun davom etishyapti.
Men ham insonman, ha, menda ham yurak bor, charchaydigan body bor. Hammasini zoʻr boʻlishini xohlaysiz, qaysi ishda boʻlishidan qatʼiy nazar, ammo oxirida sen yana yolgʻiz qolasan.
Odamlar senga ahamiyat ham bermaydi. Sen esa doim ularga yordam bergansan. Balki, oʻzingni oʻylash vaqti kelmadimikan-a ? Yetarlicha ularga vaqtingni, mehringni va borligingni bagʻishlading. Yetar endi. Ro'llar almashdim endi. Bu dunyoda hamma bir-biridan foydalanadi.
Pul va mansab insonni asl kimligini koʻrsatadi. Hammasidan kechib ketging keladi, ammo imkoniyat yoʻq. Balki, men bahona qilayotgandirman, axir oʻzim aytardimku, oʻlimdan boshqa hamma narsani iloji bor deb. Nega endi jimib qoldim shu yerida ? Balki oʻzimni sabablarim borligi uchundir.
Oʻzing uchun harakat qil. Ular seni toʻliq yoʻq qilishiga yoʻl qoʻyma, oʻzingni tikla. Senda yetarlicha kuch bor va shundan foydalan. Avvalgi oʻzingni sogʻinishni bas qil, toʻgʻri, u baxtli edi toki shu yergacha kelmaguncha, oʻsha baxtni yana qaytar. Ular soʻrib olayotgan baxtni yana oʻzingga qaytarib ol.
Davom et, oz qoldi...

Ba’zan hamma narsa yo‘qolib ketgandek tuyuladi. Ammo aynan o‘sha paytda hayot kim ekaningni eslatadi.

Ba’zan sizda ham shunday bo‘ladimi — hamma narsa yo‘qolib ketayotgandek tuyuladi. Iching bo‘m-bo‘sh, hech narsaga qiziqishing qolmaydi. Umid ham sekin o‘chayotgandek…
Lekin aynan o‘sha paytda, kutilmaganda, mitti narsalar keladi. Juda oddiy, juda kichik. Ammo ular yuzingga yana tabassum qaytaradi. Va sen tushunasan: ularning beradigan quvonchi o‘ylaganimizdan ham katta ekan.
Buni ba’zilar “bolalarcha” deydi. Lekin odamlarning gaplari kimga qiziq, to‘g‘rimi? Axir bu baxt ularga emas, menga keladi-ku. Agar biz har kim nima dedi, deb yashaganimizda, balki bu hayotda umuman bo‘lmasdik ham.
Biz hayotga bir marta kelamiz. Me’yor borligini bilamiz, albatta. Lekin bu hayotda odamlar nima deydi, deb o‘z orzularimdan voz kechish niyatim yo‘q.
Meni “qiz bola” deb, har qadamimga taqiq qo‘yish — bu mantiqsizlik.
Qiz bola grant yutsa bo‘ladi, lekin o‘qimasligi kerak emish.
Qiz bola ko‘p til o‘rgansa mayli, lekin ko‘p gapirmasin emish.
Qiz bola o‘qigan bo‘lishi kerak, lekin doim jim tursin emish.
Qiz bola umuman gapirmasin, faqat “kerakli joyda” tilga kirsin emish.
Bu nimasi o‘zi?!
O‘g‘il bolada qanday maqsad bo‘lsa, qiz bolada ham shunday orzu, niyat, yo‘l bor.
Va men o‘sha yo‘ldan yurishdan hech qachon uyalmayman. Hali ham davom etaman

I didn’t walk away because I stopped loving them.
I walked away because I finally chose myself.

Barini yangidan boshlash — or the same dream, but sharper, braver, more honest. I chose the second. Because 2025 didn’t come to pet me — it came to teach me. 2025 was not gentle. It was a lesson year. A year where I walked roads with people close to my heart, yet those roads were so far apart that even if we met, we wouldn’t recognize each other anymore. Especially the last months…they were heavy.
The kind of heavy that sits on your chest at night and asks quiet, dangerous questions.
But even in those days — there were people who held me up without knowing they were saving me.
Teaching…people think it’s just a job. But it’s not. Teaching is running away from darkness without realizing it, and suddenly finding yourself surrounded by small, warm souls — and giving them everything you’ve learned, everything you are. I don’t just miss HBK learning center. I miss the people. I miss the teachers, yes — but more than that, I miss the little family I built without meaning to. Everyone I taught became a part of me. A small family. My family. And the last months with them…they were beautiful. I say this honestly. Their laughter. Their growth. Their last words to me — yes, I cried reading them. I didn’t hide it. Those tears were real.
Today, I made a decision that is right for me. And on one side, I feel light — Alhamdulillah. Like a breath I’ve been holding too long finally escaped. But on the other side…I miss them. So much. In a way that doesn’t make noise, but hurts deeply.

In the end, I chose myself. And yes — it hurt. It still does. But my heart is calm. Sometimes choosing yourself means walking away from people you love without loving them any less. Whatever happens — may it be for the best.

Men hozir videodars yozib oʻtirganimda hayolimdan shu fikr oʻtyapti:

Nega hozirgi odamlar bunchalik darajada dangasa bo‘lib qolishdi?
Like… seriously, why?
Hozir ustozlar hamma narsani tayyorlab beradi. Qayerda o‘qish kerak — ko‘rsatadi. Qanday qilish kerak — tushuntiradi. Vazifa qaysi kitobning qaysi betida — highlight qilib beradi. Ba’zida faqat bitta narsa qoladi: o‘quvchi nafas olsin xolos.

Shunga qaramay, yana savol:
“Ustoz, qaysi bet edi?”
“Ustoz, nimani qilish kerak?”
“Ustoz, bu qiyin emasmi?”

Ochiq qilib aytaman: chaynab berilgan narsani ham yutolmayapmiz. And that’s impressive — in the worst way.
Muammo bilimda emas. Muammo resursda ham emas. Hamma narsa bor: internet, video, izoh, reminder.
Yetishmayotgani bitta — harakat. Hozir ko‘pchilik natijani xohlaydi, lekin jarayonga allergiyasi bor.

O‘rganishni emas, tayyor javobni sevadi. Mehnatni emas, certificate’ni. Eng qizig‘i — hamma “motivatsiya yo‘q” deydi. Lekin motivatsiya yo‘q emas, intizom yo‘q. And discipline doesn’t feel aesthetic, so no one wants it.
Oldin odamlar qidirardi. Hozir esa “link tashlab yuboring” deydi. Oldin o‘ylashardi. Hozir “short qilib ayting” deyishadi. Miya esa sekin-asta power-saving mode’ga o‘tyapti.
Bu ustozning aybi emas. Bu tizimning hammasi emas. Bu — qulaylikka haddan ortiq o‘rganib qolgan ongning natijasi. Chunki haqiqat shunaqa: hayot hech kimga chaynab bermaydi. Imtihon ham. Real world ham.

Va oxir-oqibat,
yutishni bilmagan odam
och qoladi.

Love?
No thanks — I’m choosing peace and uninterrupted sleep.

Sevgi o‘zi nima?
Honestly… what even is love? Menga sevgi kerak emas. Like — no, thank you. Men buyurtma bermaganman. Return policy bormi o‘zi?
Sevgi deyishadi…uyquni buzadi, ishtahani o‘ldiradi, miyani drama-rejimga qo‘yadi. And for what? Bir “seen” bilan yurakni ezish uchunmi?
Love comes like: “I’ll heal you.”
Keyin esa: emotionally unavailable bo‘lib chiqadi. Classic. Menga tinchlik kerak. Peace. Routine. Sleep without overthinking. Men sevgi emas, barqaror Wi-Fi xohlayman.
Sevgi bo‘lsa ham — low volume, please. No shouting. No mind games. No “let’s talk” at 1 a.m. Agar sevgi bo‘lsa, let it be healthy. If not — I’m good. Men o‘zim bilan dating qilyapman hozir. Exclusive. Sevgi? Cute concept. Risky investment. Right now — not in my budget.

when I'm trying to go to sleep but then I think and I think and I think...