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Y'know, I'm starting to think that someone's playing a prank on me. Every attempt I make to... Idk, fall in love? Something always has to happen that just messes things up. In this case, I guess I'm happy for them? Either way, whoever's playing a prank on me, maybe stop now?? Please?

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It's weird. It's weird that I have been losing a lot lately. I wish I could just say that I didn't know how it happened. But deep down I know it's somehow my fault. Yea, I feel like out of all the things I'm unsure of, this is that one thing I'm sure I caused. Why am I like this? No, honestly why am I like this? I think deep down I know the answer but I'm too scared to admit it. Too scared to lose again. I hate this. I hate it. I hate that the only thing I can do is stand by and watch while it all falls apart. Then as usual say "This sucks". It's so weird.

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My ultimate goal is to catch sunsets in different parts of the world with the love of my life.

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virginia woolf

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said some words that shouldn't have been said

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“You are worth finding. Worth knowing. Worth loving. You and all your one million layers. Always hold that close.”

— Danielle Doby

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Growing, glowing up 💛

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"Recipe For A Perfect Rejection"

It’s late at night, and I’m staring at the ceiling again. My mind’s cluttered with thoughts that shouldn’t matter—but somehow, they always do at this hour. I’ve gotten used to it by now. It’s like clockwork. 2 AM hits, and sadness sneaks in like an old friend who never learned to knock. So here I am, thinking about her.

Don’t get me wrong—she’s not the irrelevant part. It’s the thoughts that come with her. Like how her smile sticks in my head long after she’s gone. Or the way she talks, like every word means something. How her eyes light up when she’s excited. And… how I should probably tell her how I feel.

I roll over in bed, groaning into my pillow. Is this what being a hopeless romantic feels like? Because honestly, I swore I’d never fall for her. If anything, I think I hated her at first. Yeah, I definitely hated her. Or at least, I told myself I did. But now? The idea of even pretending to hate her feels impossible. What was I thinking back then? Hating someone like her?

This isn’t some cheesy rom-com where I suddenly have an epiphany about when I fell for her. Trust me, I wish it was that simple. But it wasn’t one big, dramatic moment. It just… happened. One day, my heart wasn’t just doing its job pumping blood. No, it decided it had a new purpose—to fall for her.

It’s funny, really. I used to think we were opposites. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t stand her at first. But somehow, we became close. Close enough for me to start seeing her differently. And as someone who second-guesses everything, I didn’t want to assume anything. But eventually, I got tired of wondering.

February rolled around, and with it came all the hearts and flowers and sappy stuff. Valentine’s Day was just around the corner, and I found myself awake, way past midnight, spiraling into another one of those delusional moments. You know the kind—the ones where you convince yourself you’re perfect for each other. I was lying there like some detective, connecting imaginary dots, crafting scenarios in my head about how I’d tell her.

Then, the next day, I saw her. We exchanged greetings like we always did. To anyone else, it was just another ordinary day. But to me? It felt like a holiday. Just being near her, getting to hear her voice, being that friend—it was enough to make my heart race.

Not that I was always thinking about her like this when we were together. I mean, I’m not completely hopeless. We actually got to know each other because we were rivals, believe it or not. Maybe that’s where the whole hating her thing started. But even back then, when we’d argue over the dumbest things, there was something about her that stuck with me.

Everyone around us was buzzing about their Valentine’s Day plans—who they’d asked out, where they were going, all that. Me? I told myself I was too busy with a project. And well… she was too.

February 14th came faster than I expected.

While everyone was busy exchanging chocolates and crumpled love letters, I was hunched over my desk, staring at a blank page. The project deadline was tomorrow, and somehow, I convinced myself that was more important than confessing to her. I kept telling myself, “There’s always another day.”

Another day came—and went.

I didn’t see her much on the 14th. She was busy too, or at least, that’s what I told myself. I figured I’d ask her to hang out on the 16th. “It’s just two days late,” I thought. “Better late than never, right?”

Wrong.

Because February 15th arrived like a punch I didn’t see coming.

She found me during lunch, her eyes practically glowing, and before I could even open my mouth, she blurted, “I have something to tell you!”

I smiled, thinking maybe—just maybe—this was the moment I was waiting for. Maybe life had some weird, ironic twist prepared, and she was going to say she liked me too. After all, that’s how it goes in the movies, right?

Wrong. Again.

“My crush asked me out yesterday!” she beamed. “Can you believe it? And I said yes! We’re official now.”

I froze. Just like that. No warning, no preparation. My heart didn’t even have the courtesy to stop beating dramatically—it just kept going, like nothing had happened. But everything had.

“Oh,” was all I managed.

She didn’t notice. Or maybe she did, but she kept talking anyway. She told me about how he surprised her with flowers, how he made her laugh in that way I thought only I could. Every word felt like an extra weight on my chest, but I smiled through it. I always smiled through it.

When she finally stopped, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, I cleared my throat.

“Y’know,” I said, forcing a laugh, “that’s a shame. I heard somebody else liked you a lot. I guess they were too late, huh?”

She blinked at me, caught off guard. For a moment, I thought she might realize. Maybe she'd connect the dots, see through the cracks in my voice. But instead, she just laughed.

“Really? Who?”

I shrugged, looking away. “Doesn’t matter now.”

And just like that, I served myself the perfect rejection—without even giving her the chance to say no.

Now, here I am, staring at the ceiling at 2 AM again. My mind is flooded, but not with irrelevant thoughts this time. No, these are all too relevant. Every word she said, every smile she gave, replaying like a song I can’t turn off.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How you can plan everything down to the last detail—what you’ll say, how you’ll say it—and still, life finds a way to mess it up. I thought timing was on my side. I thought feelings could wait.

But love doesn’t follow your schedule. It doesn’t care about your deadlines or your fears.

And sometimes, being too late is the only recipe you need for a perfect rejection.

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— soulinkpoetry

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— Alexandra Vasiliu