As days passed in school, I started settling in.
Still shy, still quiet — but I made a few good friends.
I wasn’t extraordinary in studies. Just average. A mediocre student, you could say.
But I was trying.
And slowly… I began to enjoy things. The laughs, the shared lunchboxes, the silly gossip.
But something else was also happening — quietly, without me noticing.
I was growing away from my parents.
I don’t know how or when.
It just… happened.
I stopped asking what they were doing.
Stopped noticing if they were tired or smiling.
I became busy with my new world — school, homework, friends.
And maybe that’s how growing up feels at first — like freedom, but a kind that slowly pulls you away from love.
And then… came the internet.
It started with Facebook — the new, shiny thing everyone talked about.
I was in the end of 11th standard when I created my first account.
And like everyone else, I got caught in chatting, scrolling, messaging strangers that turned into friends.
That’s when I met him.
We began with simple hellos, just random chats.
But slowly… something changed.
His messages made me smile. I started looking forward to talking to him.
I didn’t have a phone back then — my sister did, she was in college.
So I waited.
Waited for her to be free, just so I could text him.
And then came my birthday.
He said he would come to meet me.
Diary, I still remember that day like a scene from a film.
I didn’t know what to wear. I wanted to look good but not “too much.”
Finally, I wore a salwar suit with a dupatta — simple, but girlish.
My heart was thumping. Nervous. Excited.
My friends came with me. We met at a temple.
He was sweet. Respectful.
He smiled, I smiled. We talked.
And before leaving, he gave me a small pink teddy bear.
My first ever gift from a boy.
I held it in my hands like it was something magical.
That day… I felt like I was flying.
After that, I spoke to him whenever I could.
And without realising, I started liking him.
It wasn’t love maybe — I didn’t even understand love then.
But it was something… soft, warm.
But magic doesn’t last forever, does it?
After a few months, he began ignoring me.
I don’t know why.
He lived in the city, had so many people around him… maybe I wasn’t enough.
I did silly things — messaged his friends, tried to find out why.
But he never really told me.
He just… vanished.
My heart broke.
I cried, alone, with my pillow hiding my face.
And then… I moved on.
Slowly. Quietly.
I told myself — never again.
No more “feelings.”
No more attachments.
No more trusting strangers with your heart.
But deep down, Diary… I think once you’ve known that kind of connection,
you start craving it.
You start feeling lonelier when it's gone.
So I kept making online friends.
Most were just names on a screen.
But then… I met someone different.
He had a golden heart.
He listened to me.
He made me laugh.
He didn’t judge.
I called him just a friend… but somewhere he became more.
When school ended, when friends got busy with their own lives,
he was the only one I still talked to every day.
He became a habit.
A comfort.
He was kind. Sensitive. Intelligent.
And when I began preparing for competitive exams,
he helped me study.
He stayed up late when I was anxious.
He cheered me up when I doubted myself.
I started sharing everything with him.
And that’s how, slowly…
we started liking each other.
Time passed… and that one friend I talked about?
He became more than just a comfort.
He became my person.
We didn’t even realise how strong our bond had become.
It was like… one day I was alone, and the next, someone was always there.
To listen. To laugh. To scold me if I was lazy.
He wasn’t perfect — no one is —
But he made me forget all the sadness I had buried inside.
He was different from others.
Introverted. Simple.
People said, “He doesn’t talk much.”
But only I knew — he talked a lot, at least to me.
I used to laugh and say, “Why do you talk so much, huh?”
And he’d smile like a kid caught stealing toffees.
We lived far apart. Very far.
So far that the idea of ever meeting seemed like a dream.
Both of us came from ordinary, middle-class homes —
dreams in our eyes, limitations on our backs.
He had big goals.
Me? I wasn’t that serious about studies back then.
But he… he pushed me to focus.
He believed in me more than I believed in myself.
And then, one day, he said —
“I want to meet you.”
I was shocked.
He wasn’t allowed to travel alone.
So I spoke to his mother.
I assured her he’d be okay — because I knew he was innocent, a little soft-hearted, just like a child in many ways.
And then… the day came.
He came to my city.
He was nervous — oh so nervous — like he was walking into a world he’d only seen in dreams.
We walked, we talked… I took him to some places I liked.
I was my usual silly self — I even gave him momos to eat, giggling like a child.
But he never judged me.
He looked at me like I was enough.
Then he went back.
And our bond… it grew deeper.
Day by day, message by message.
We weren’t just “talking” anymore —
we were building something.
Or so I thought.
Because then, something changed.
He became possessive.
Too possessive.
“Where are you?”
“Whom did you meet?”
“Why didn’t you reply?”
“What are you hiding?”
At first, I answered calmly.
But slowly, it started suffocating me.
I’m not the kind of girl who can live with restrictions, Diary.
I don’t want to explain every step I take.
I wanted freedom — the kind where I could breathe.
He was a good person.
But I wasn’t the kind of girl he wanted.
And he wasn’t the kind of boy I could survive with.
Arguments began.
Daily.
Small ones. Big ones.
I said I wanted to end things.
But neither of us could really let go.
And in my frustration…
I started looking for escape.
I began talking to other people.
Trying to distract my mind.
Even downloaded Tinder.
Maybe I was wrong.
But I wasn’t thinking clearly — I just wanted to breathe.
When he found out, everything exploded.
He was hurt. Furious. Broken.
Families got involved.
And life… turned into hell.
I won’t lie, Diary.
He wasn’t completely wrong.
And I wasn’t completely right.
I should have made him feel secure —
Told him, with love, “You don’t have to fear losing me.”
But I didn’t.
And he…
He should’ve trusted me —
Let me be me.
Let me make friends.
Let me grow.
But instead, I started hiding things.
Because I knew… every truth would turn into another fight.
And that’s how it ended.
Not in one moment —
But slowly, painfully…
Until there was nothing left.
Years passed.
I moved on.
Life moved on.
Even after everything…
I miss him.
I miss the only person who ever truly understood me —
in ways I never had to explain.
He just… knew.
Whenever life feels heavy,
whenever I feel alone or broken or tired of pretending to be strong —
I find myself thinking of him.
I can almost hear him say something silly to make me laugh.
He always knew how to fix my mood with the most unexpected words.
He wasn’t perfect — no.
But he was mine.
In the most unspoken, emotional way.
And when I let him go…
I didn’t just lose a person.
I left behind a piece of my own heart.
A part of me that felt safe.
A part that felt heard.
A part that belonged somewhere.
And it hurts.
Even now.
That quiet ache…
It shows up in the middle of random moments —
A song. A smell. A street. A memory.
I want to believe I did the right thing.
I had to leave.
We were becoming something toxic, something that didn’t let us breathe anymore.
But still…
He was the one who stayed when everyone else left.
He was the one who believed in me when I couldn’t even believe in myself.
And now we’re just… strangers.
Like none of it ever happened.
But Diary, how do I explain this?
We were close — too close —
And yet too different.
He deserved peace.
I deserved freedom.
And sometimes…
Sometimes love isn’t enough.
Sometimes two people can care deeply,
but still break each other while trying to hold on.
Maybe we weren’t meant to stay.
Maybe we were meant to change each other — and then let go.
But I’ll never pretend he meant nothing.
He was something rare.
A moment in my life I’ll always carry quietly.
With gratitude. With ache.
Because the truth is —
I miss him too.
But he… he never changed.
He made me his only friend.
The only one he truly opened up to.
And now… he’s alone.
I know it.
I feel it.
And I feel bad.
Because somewhere, I broke something in him.
He still remembers me.
But we’re strangers now.
No hatred.
No revenge.
Just two people who once meant the world to each other…
Now walking separate roads,
carrying memories that never really left.
Tears fall on these pages tonight.
Because for the first time… I’m not writing about pain he gave me.
I’m writing about the pain I gave him.
I remember how he used to say —
“No matter what happens, don’t leave me.”
And I promised.
I meant it…
But I broke it.
Not because I stopped loving him —
but because I stopped loving myself in that relationship.
I was frustrated.
I was tired of the fights.
Tired of explaining myself.
Tired of hiding the real me just to keep him calm.
And so, one day, I just left.
But you know what, Diary?
He never wanted to leave.
He fought for us — even when I pushed him away.
Even when I became cold.
Even when I said, “I don’t care anymore,” he still stayed.
Because for him…
I was the only one.
His friend. His comfort. His home.
And I?
I shattered him.
I walked away with a bruised heart —
But I didn’t realise I left him broken.
It took me years…
Years to understand that kind of loyalty,
that kind of quiet, deep love.
It’s only now that I feel it.
In my silence.
In my regrets.
In my tears.
Now when I feel low…
It’s his voice that echoes in my mind.
The way he would’ve joked to lift my mood.
The way he would’ve said, “Don’t overthink. I’m here.”
But he’s not here anymore.
Because I chose to walk away.
And no matter how much I cry now,
no matter how deeply I realise his value —
It’s too late.
I left a boy who only asked for one thing:
“Please don’t leave me.”
I thought I was saving myself.
But maybe, I lost a part of myself that day too.
He suffers silently, I know that.
Because he never hated me.
Even after all the pain — he never cursed me.
He just… loved me quietly, even in my absence.
And maybe that’s what makes this hurt the most.
He never stopped being mine.
I just stopped being his.
There’s something I want to say.
And I don’t care if he ever reads it.
Because today, it’s not about going back.
It’s about setting both of us free.
So here it is...
---
To you,
I hope you’re happy now.
I hope you wake up someday with a peaceful heart,
surrounded by someone who sees your soul the way I couldn’t.
Someone who doesn’t run away when things get tough,
but stays — really stays.
You deserve that.
You deserve the kind of love that doesn’t confuse silence with peace,
that doesn’t make you feel too much for caring too deeply.
I know now…
You were never trying to control me.
You were just scared of losing me.
And I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I didn’t understand you.
Sorry I never slowed down enough to see that your overprotectiveness came from a place of pure, scared, honest love.
Sorry I made you feel like you weren’t enough.
When in truth — you were everything.
You always told me not to leave.
And I left anyway.
Not because I stopped caring.
But because I didn’t know how to love someone without breaking myself back then.
If I could say one last thing to you —
It would be this:
Don’t let your inner child die.
Don’t shut down the silly, caring, emotional soul that made me fall for you.
Let him shine. Let him breathe. Let him be loved again.
Somewhere out there,
there’s a girl with a heart just like yours.
And when she finds you — please, let her in.
Because if she truly understands you,
she’ll be the luckiest person in the world.
Take care of yourself.
Take care of your dreams.
And forgive me — not because I deserve it,
but because you do.
..
From my diary.....
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